We Write. Art. Feel. Think. Bleed.
A note to keep going
For the last 45-minutes, I’ve been studying the inside of my eyelids. Those astute colors of vivid yellows, reds, oranges — appear by day, and at night it changes to ash, bone, and soot.
Sometimes images appear or words rise from a vessel of something so holy tears slip out and befriend me. A sea is near. Imagination brings her closer. A small…