The part that is green, and rises, and dances as it rises. It is only the background, but what a background! What a world! 

We expect the focus to be in the foreground. When background becomes foreground, we feel the disturbance, and pay attention. Where is our reward? Why do we pay? We are the slaves of our expectations: foreground and background, the rules of a dead god. 

There is something of the desperate nature of the heart in all true beauty. 

Coffee in a stoneware mug: where fast and slow pleasure meet and bring me into existence. 

After we bought this house, the son of the previous owner was killed by a hit and run driver. We felt a ghost move through the space. Is it not the limit of death that proves the beauty of life? If not, then what? Find beauty in the unease.  

Leo does not think. He waits for the world to come into him, then he acts it out. 

What kind of frame do your children put around you? Are you a picture of what you love, or what you fear? 

What does it mean to make it on your own in this world? How many people does it take to make it on your own, exactly?

Sam is part of the generation that is shifting the balance of power from the looker to the seen. My generation wants to look, and control with our judgement. Sam looks to be seen, and responds to being seen, by seeing what you mean.

When John Paul II died, the top-down world died with him. He was a leader from the bottom who showed the emptyness of the top by the example of his own fullness. Go listen to some Joy Division music, and wonder why the lead singer committed suicide at 25. When Ian Curtis died, the bottom-up world died with him. 

We always have more layers to choose to see than we see, we think. 

The process of co-creation of the universe, begins in the kitchen. 

Sam and Sterling take two different paths to composing. Sam and Sterling shape time with a natural poise. They both will tip into hunger, then compose again. 

This cat has never imagined a better world. He has never made any promises. He has never missed the mark. Without caring about perfection, or its alternative, he embodies completeness. And he shares it with you, for free. 

To this cat, there is nothing wrong with anything. 

We only learn anything from those we love. Everyone else is unfinished homework. 

Someone bought these tulips for a lover who broke up with them before the flowers could be delivered. In their royal dark color they hint at pain, even as the leaves caress each other, and the light turns the water into diamond: the gem of hope. The flowers and the love affair are gone now, while you contemplate the triangle of pain, touch, and hope. Meanwhile, a hummingbird hovers forever. 

Maggie plays herself like a viola. Beauty and booty baths all in one life frame. 

Is there an idea of this room in the mind of the cat in the room? What the hell would that look like?

Sam makes his face into an example of quantum superposition. Over his shoulder, Chagall reminds us that love comes before and after science. In his music, Sam follows the trail of Chagall's truth. 

Sara is the difference between inside and outside. 

It is the light in the upper part of our rooms that we rarely notice, but it colors our every thought. 

Sara holds her dream on a leash, and listens to the music of her hand. 

To this cat, there is nothing wrong with anything. 

I decay and am renewed. I eat light and spill remaindered aphorisms. I can't get rid of my knowledge fast enough. Give me the proof of purchase of your confidence, and I will rebate your desire.