Thanks: appreciation of, and gratitude for the in/tangible.
Three years and I complete the cycle of these words. I begin, again, yet this start is not the same.
As moments pass they leave their mark upon me.
As I return, to ideas, to beauty, to love, I am new, as you become.
The nature of life and art is its start, its end. My great fortune is to be with, time, and again.
· With every word: refine, make clear.
· Record each phrase that settles here with speech, with voice, with heart.
· Present the written word: each character that falls upon the page, beautifully, as subtext, as metatext.
· Bring art together with each thought.
· Make known today the shadow and the light of world, our worlds that come what may.
Three years, in this place of thought, a page remained unseen, untouched, despite its easy reach.
In wait for one in five, million, souls. Perhaps it may be you. Year one, year two, year three, and then...
Each day I hide from view those parts of me that long for light. To hide, as much with love or hope, as with the claustrophobic fear that no one shares my view. For few and rare: the curious mind awaits.
Here, hear my voice, speak one word before its end, this day of celebration, when you and I first meet.