In these days of losing and shifting (no static nouns of “loss” and shift” here), time doesn’t stand still. It does its regular planetary breathing, and amongst it all, I continue to make—cloud photos, mixed art, word work, exploring the interstices of our urban/rural, cultural/natural connections. I know that if I stop, I will do more than cry.
Last night out for an empty-street walk, I kept my eye on the sky, on my clouds, the distance, convinced I could not/would not trip on the cracks.
