Jungle Loving

Prologue: Rootbound

Before the jungle, there was the jar. Cold, cracked, and silent.

Florence hadn’t felt held in years, not by a partner, not by her family, especially not by the world she once tried so hard to belong to. She had curled herself small under fluorescent office lights, under polite conversations with poisoned smiles, under the weight of unpaid bills and unspoken grief and still, like every stubborn thing that grows, she reached for light.

This is not a story of redemption. This is the story of what happens when a woman stops trying to fit herself into a smaller pot, when she stops watering relationships that only drain her dry. When she remembers, her roots were made for wilder soil.

The jungle was always waiting, and so was she.