I sit here and I remember a fleeting quote I had come across...and cry as I remember why it is that I thought of it when I sat applying stage face for a show...
“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen. When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason."
-Ernest HemingwayI attach a picture I had begun t think of as the artist at her most vulnerable yet her most ecstatic...when sharing her soul through her art
