In the still quiet place we meet.


Unearthing myself. Found things. A stash of gorgeous fine art papers, an extra special journal, and an old self-portrait. Sundays are for surrender.

I love you, Carl. And I miss you every day. But there can be beauty, yes, even in this. Today I sit still, quietly, in this space that you brought me to: with God.

Blank paper. An invitation.


{originally published March 8, 2015}

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