It came to be that what was necessary was for her to jump blindly into an idea so that the words could manifest off the page, be absorbed into the body.

For she  insisted on seeking a higher understanding of what it meant to live – to exist.

Yet what came with that was hauling the weight of the memories, the moments that so delicately dissipate before our eyes.

Slowly she began to let go of control. She gave the work away. She did not let outside voices nor noise keep her work, her goals, from coming into fruition.

She shall. She will. She is.

Constance Strickland