She perched, edge and center, on the metal folding chair, ankles crossed and angled toes barely touching the floor, her SoftRose painted lips pursed, her eyebrows raised even higher above their normally penciled boundaries, a single vertical line deepening between those brows, but slightly favoring the left, while two small circles of color heated each cheek, as if they’d been purposefully applied with a sable brush. Continue reading
Meditation with a Purring Cat
I can’t heal the world, not on my own. Can’t heal America, can’t do much beyond my own limited vision.
And yet… Continue reading