A journal page written with my non dominant hand. It always feels like a message from within and I never know what will come from this independent left hand. "Wait for me, she said. . . . No, don't. I'll find my own way. " Isn't that what we artists do, we find our way. We experiment, we ask questions, we find our tribe, we say what if . . . . , we try it our way. We were the child that our parents shook their heads and did not know what to do with or we were the quiet ones in the classroom with a full life within. (That was not me. I was not the quiet one in class.) We see it differently, we translate the world in our own ways. We say, this is how I see it.