After 50 I feel you spend the rest of your life grieving! All those you’ve lost, betrayal and fuck-ups? Ya better know how to ride the wave ’cause it’s not going to go away if ya ignore it!!
The key I wish for is for the door that awaits me…what awaits me is my own art loft. In it is a remarkable place of supplies. Tables of wood and windows that slant where the sun comes in just right. Or the moon at night as I listen on the stereo with giant speakers. Paper, pencils and stencil paper. Small printing press and paper-cutter. Clamps, needles and string. Water colors galore. Dark room and computers. All near the sound of a stream and the brush of a small town. Everything in order even if this means disorder….where everything can stay untouched…… my hands, my key…..!!!
Muses are you listening ?