Sunday, February 26, 2012

memory

The smell of woodsmoke = memories, and longing.

 I cannot help but think of a room with warm light.  Everything here is worn, used, tattered, necessary, comfortable, cared for, and  the people share themselves.

Love is real.






The studio is good.  I am working hard, and having fun.

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I am pretty happy most days, and do not mind too much when I am sad, which makes me happy.

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