Been in the garden. The story. The artwork. The rhythm. Having planted. Written. Colored. Composed. Focused on the growth. The words. The feelings. The sounds. Built into the home. The talk. The weather. The music. As confessions of less even though there is more. As...

What travels between our hearts and our heads is what we have met in ourselves with certainty. In what leaks through the spaces within gardens that hold gain: whether in joy or in pain. In their sharing common ground amongst the layers of pages. In their giving...

Two different feelings far apart but still close enough in a story. One happy and the other sad. Each with just enough time for their messages to be interpreted. Dropped onto lines as talking points translated from situations. Just becoming what's not questioned in...

In the stories of artwork, there's a lot of stuff to look over. Quiet context with its tranquility.  Loud containers that came running in. Some happy and some sad, lived and kept. Sometimes with no additional notes and others with long conversations behind them....

Not everything makes sense and not everything can be healed. Witnessed things impact differently those that lived there. And staying in place is not the same as movement that has stopped. These are words for the moments that stay long after the page has turned....

Shaky lines will be written from the mechanics of what it has meant to be us. From apologies said out loud and whispered so that no one can hear them. From the preservation of what's been for sure and that which is still unsure. And from the discomfort of...