The beauty of the mountain evolves with each season
and impregnates my mind. It becomes an
ever-growing presence, dovetailing its wild and mystic manner with life on Glen
Echo Road. Shades of green, amber, and
sunflower yellow sporadically slip off the mountain and into the paintings I
create in my room. There is always
something for me to see, I just need to look for it. And I find, regardless of the seasons, that
love and loss is simultaneously cradled, almost as if they rely on each other
for their existence. There is no way to
separate them from one another. I
scribble the day’s event in my diary.
Love opens up, always knowing the right words. I watch a golden globe for a sun sink in the
backdrop outside my bedroom. The
moonbeams come out early in the summer.
We’ve tried to catch them outside our house before…standing there with
empty jars and lids, our arms swinging together, crashing like cymbals. How long will the light live?
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