Here I sit, my artwork on all four sides, sewing machine in front of me, emery board in hand and fabric strewn all over the room. I see my dress-form in the corner and stash of canvas peeping out of the closet full---no no, overflowing, of the latest trends and timeless classics. My vintage camera collection is beginning to grow and digital becomes obsolete in my world. Avant garbage is piling up behind me and my feet rest atop my golden antique chair. Marylin and Audrey haunt the room and shoes pile up by the door. The hardwood is covered is thread ends from projects past and the free finds of my life begin to increase, yet still have no home.
What is missing? A breath other than my own.
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