To write, make magic with words, hold my child…swim in clear blue water, heat bearing down…these are the incidents and accidents that have brought me to this point in my life.
At 43 I am unable to work for someone else. Too many years of making money for others with gifts meant for me to pass on, has left me wondering about this “Hope” I sell.

Hope is what my father sold, and his father before him. Hope is what keeps us alive, in an otherwise insane world…Hope is what keeps us trying day in & out.
Hope, faded or not is still hope.

faded