Nature’s cathedral of treetops has always been my place of peace, where I can turn off and allow everything else to fall away.
A mixture of pollinated air and car exhaust climb through open windows as I begin my day. The cat joyously runs between the sorted laundry piles, and down the hallway to greet me. Excited mews bounce off my ears. Closing
I have always felt an urge to express myself. For years, I was taught that I am supposed to be a tool. One destined to write the desires of others. To be an honorable pencil was to be assigned the