This canvas woke me early this morning, a stored, unfinished relic of yesterday. A long ago yesterday. Thirty two years of yesterdays. How did he make it through all the moves. How did he make it through all the loss. How did he survive & why. Apparently he has something to say. I'm not sure, if he would brave this journey with me to only be silent. Years ago he spoke to me from a magazine. Then, he started to show up every time I went to church. He keep evolving, spinning, twisting ... till finally out of fear, I put him in the back, I stored him away. Cause he had WAY too much to say.