This gallery contains 9 photos.
Suburbia is an unexpected spider weaving us deep into its intricately crafted traps. I slit, cut, and peel away each layer of my eye, straining to see through the thick cloudy silk.
This gallery contains 9 photos.
Suburbia is an unexpected spider weaving us deep into its intricately crafted traps. I slit, cut, and peel away each layer of my eye, straining to see through the thick cloudy silk.
This gallery contains 9 photos.
This gallery contains 12 photos.
The sun unfurls magnetic storms. The sky is too blue. It is the end of winter. Petals decay on the front lawn. At night, two fingers form a V to cover Venus and Jupiter, while Mars sits alone, ruddy orange, on the other edge of the sky. But today there is warm. There is sunlight. There is medicine. There is worm. […]
This gallery contains 9 photos.
At the end of this week in suburbia I am longing to simply sit and be still. My mission for today: meditate, breathe, smile. Blessed and grateful to have a bit of space set aside for this type of quiet stillness. Breathe in. Breathe out. Smile.
This gallery contains 12 photos.
To salvage the tiniest shred of mental health that we had left we finally escaped to the District for the weekend. The scent of concrete, rusty water, and track dust that rushes up warmly, curling its way along the path of Metro escalators, is the only air I need to breathe. Then I am home. […]