I rode the wave, moving up and down where ever it took me. Not on a boat, nor floating on top. No, I was like a drop of water, powerless to control my destiny. I migrated to the top and the sun’s rays beat down on me mercilessly, not caring of my agony. Then, I sunk to the deepest darkest bottom, blind to what was around me, yet feeling the darkness penetrate my very soul. Suddenly, I was thrown upon…
A weaver’s afghan began not at the loom. No, the piece first began with an idea. The idea then took form and solidified. The idea had to take shape and that required action. The proper loom and just the right threads had to be found. The colors had to be chosen in proper hues to bring the idea life and fulfill its final destiny. Then, the weaver began taking the twists and turns to necessary make a straight thread become…
I can create worlds with the stroke of my pen. Then, with an eraser, I can make them disappear and create something entirely different, something new. Perhaps this new world will be better than the former, but perhaps not. One might wonder where such great power comes from, but I can not tell you, for I scary know. My imagination simply takes off at a run in which my mind scrambles to translate into words and my hands ache at…