While America Unravels, a Bird Quietly Builds

in an obscure corner,
stranded, waiting,
devouring the memory of my country

…
my work has been wobbling lately between wonder and contempt. I try my best to tune out the chaos, but there’s too much demanding attention. it isn’t the time to roll over and look away. but stillness is needed. // there is a dove quietly nesting in my home. she brings me peace. a persistence to build, one twig at a time, no matter how often I tried to shoo her away. she pressed forward day after day. week after week. month after month.

I am making erasures. ‘without a country’. I am making marks. ‘the architecture of (be)longing’. >>

>>meditations on organic lines. observing the tangle of twigs and dried grasses with detail finer than hair. vines clinging on and roots reaching with determination to make their way to water.