A Bird on the Wing
A little Clairfontaine notebook with one entry: it was precariously perched among other journals on the shelf in my studio, and its paucity of purpose was bothering me enough to make me take it to my reading nest and use…
No Demands
The trees in the forest across the road, where my family and I like to spend time, speak to me of perseverance and acceptance and being. They do being very well, far better than any of us. The fir trees…
Be Who You Are
I used to struggle to call myself a writer, an artist, a photographer. Didn’t I have to make money at something to be that?Even if I did make money at it, did the label really fit? Sometimes I forgot that…
