Woven reeds. To make sense of this place. The pain. To create something that will perish. As I will perish. Utterly terrified. Continuing. Peculiar weavings. Taking up space. Until they melt away. Whole, delicate, imperfect, soon gone. Melting back into the river from which they came. Silent serenity.
Mika Taga 
Wow. I love the way you think. This poem has such deep meaning, It’s beautiful. And the photos perfectly explain it. I have to think a lot when I read your poems and look at your art. 🙂
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