Maybe we are standing in the same place.
Feet on the edge looking out and over and up and back.
Knees to the floor searching for an answer, waiting and wondering like it's going to come around the corner loud with headlights.
I’m trying.
Out of breath.
You’re okay.
Inhale.
Go on.
Exhale.
Keep going.
Deep breath.
You’re not done yet.
Life is messy,
but so is art.
Both a process, often never finished, left undone with more to be done or re-done.
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