As he lay there in the garden Idling away time, The voice in his head bubbled and foamed... It goaded him to get up, To roll up his sleeves and do this or that. To make with his hands things that others could touch. "I am everything already," he said to himself. "I don't need … Continue reading The Voice In His Head
Hands from the past reaching out to us: Ocher red, white, dark, brown, Five-fingered, four-fingered, three-fingered, Hand stencils sprayed on the wall, Ocher mixed with spit, mixed with blood, Blown through hollow bones; Art as a plea for us to remember Ourselves when we did not have faces. Our words now are like hand stencils … Continue reading Hands From the Past
Doing what you enjoy and doing it well? Another person near? Something good to eat, in the company of friends? A cat purring in your lap, waiting to be fed? A day spent in quiet solitude, with a book for a friend and music for a date? A trip someplace far that makes you feel … Continue reading What’s happiness to you?