November 12, 2015
The page is blank. Where does one start to make sense of a life? Is there a beginning and an end? Are there multiple interconnections, seemingly disconnected, which in the fullness of time connect to form a story? A whole, of many parts, which if visually portrayed, could look like a collage or a Jackson Pollock painting of pure form and no image, pure paint - the essence and without artifice.
This is the dance of life...