Cold bites at my sweater as I death grip the handrail, before entering the dark cemented gap between the house and earth.
A focused eye finds what it’s looking for in the corner, full of shadows. While I search for a light in the switchless room, I stumble upon a knob. Twisting it, darkness grows warm, slowly bringing to life the tools and cork board in front of me. Instantaneously all the momentum to get to this spot, no longer exists. I am speechless and inspired to create.
Granted, working with these tools would be an experience, that of which I have had before, but the craft of which I desire to do, is very specific. It’s words and pictures on a digital canvas. It’s emotional, for I am tied story by story, moment by moment, word by word, letter by letter, shadow by shadow, light by light, texture by texture. It’s water on a hot day and warmth in frozen winter. It’s under my skin and has me bounding out of darkness back into the bite of cold.