If I didn't challenge the hermit in me to follow a star once in awhile, I'm afraid I would be swallowed whole by a moss somewhere and I would probably love it. I would sprout roots into a soil that is simultaneously our womb and our tomb. I would once again reach into a space and sit down to feel the warmth of my inner hearths fire. However, I also yearn for drops of fresh nectar. I want to walk through unknown doors and move through places I have not yet been before, or maybe just not in a long, long time.

Part of my expression draws from a wellspring hidden behind the elusive folds of our material world. Here, I'm both human and being. Here, I'm staring into a vast cauldron of mirroring waters and deep glittering blackness.

Here, the vulva serves as a guardian to a primordial source of origin.