When I was small....
I wanted a tree house. One of those fancy ones with lights and bookshelves--like a modern version of the tree house in the "Swiss Family Robinson." It would be a place I could go and hide out from the world--a place to think deeply about the things that touched my emotions (good and bad), to inhabit other lives through books, poetry, music, and art, and to dream about the things that gave me hope, joy, and comfort.
I never got my tree house--but I've decided this place will serve. I imagine it as a solitary and liminal place, delicately straddling the knife-edge between waking and sleep, where your truest self appears--whether you want it to or not.
Here there be monsters. And angels. And only God knows what else.....
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We've already established that no one cares what I think. And that means that I can, in the immortal words of singer/songwriter Sara Bareilles:
"Say what I want to say, and let the words fall out."
Look out below.....