Monday, February 22, 2016
Lines, textures - they speak to me. This tree tells its story of growth and age and difficulties.
As I get older, I too have the story of my life written on my body - wrinkles - some from laughter, some from playing an instrument, some from difficult times, adorn my face. A scar on my hand reminds me of my father's love and trust in me as he gave me (too young) a knife for carving. It slipped... I still remember him carrying me to my bed to lie down after he had bandaged my hand. Each bag and sag, each wrinkle and age spot has been earned. Plastic surgery is not for me! Why would I want to erase the stories.
I wonder what stories this tree could tell.