A bear never apologizes for being a bear nor a tiger a tiger. As a child, I loved to read books and let my imagination go wild. But then there were moments when I would listen to an album— and let that arm and needle go back and forth til the lint built up… The Beatles never knew how much mileage they really did. There were hours I would wander through the streets of Manhattan, soak up an announcement… past its time…or a dark shop window finished displaying for the day. Now I worry, how to start a painting, ruin a canvas. End a painting. Abandon a project. I worry about the end and miss the journey. I’m even puzzled where I am going with this. To everything there is a season. A time to cry, a time to laugh. A time for silence. A time to be alone. A time not to care how others measure where I have gone. Where I am going. So I write… I’m on a journey with no map.

I went, I came. I grew. I am here. With or without you. The wild will be wild.