Each and every path is a new way to go forward and backwards at the same time. I see the sky in the points of focus and it’s easy to focus on growth and not learn. The ocean of paper can throw you into the rocks if you are not careful.
If I was able to pause a moment it time to view again it would be the first time I wanted to do this art book. 10 does not chip away easily. There is nothing weigh less about making an art book. My hopes are that it finds you warmly and beautifully.
Everything in some way just as much as I made the book, the book kinda of made me.
On my best days of the book is how it feels. It should feel like a love song to the page. It should feel like a kiss in the winter.
Friends of friends of friends of lovers. The empty is the moment the bag hits the floor and the door closes to the night. Hard pressed to see more than the seconds of running, smiling and the little deaths. Teens on Halloween, the parties, the drugs, the troubles and the makeup on banisters. Midsize red and white finger paint on lips and clothings.
Her smirk is the open books that say everything and then nothing all at once. Her costume is the run on sentence of the mind’s eye.
Mars the phenomenal.
Little of me remembers that years smells but the touch of the cold on the tops of my arms is an unshakeable souls shiver. The parts that make all I run into mentally a cliff edge.