A November Post:

The written text is becoming my media of choice this month.  

I feel as though I must write daily.

…another shower and another day of finding comfort in writing my Croy's name on the steamed shower doors,  just as I did in my youth - my teenage years where I wrote my latest crushes names on the steam filled door in a big heart, or with an eye and a tear, the dramatic teen mastering the precision of drawing an eye ball, showcasing  the shadows that silently fall in the tear drop, the subtle lines, grey tones, whites, tints, shades.  Shadows.

I always found comfort there, comfort in my "shower drawings - my shower art". 

Personal.  Private.  Mine.

Now, as I seek ways to urge myself to make it through another day without my Croy, I find a renewed comfort, a peace, writing his name in script followed by a heart,

< my heart >

wrapped around his name.  His heart wrapped around my soul - my very existence. 

I close my eyes and rinse the shampoo from my hair and often, when I open them, he is gone. 

                                  croy is gone

His name has quietly dissolved back into the steamed walls and I am left wondering how to keep his name, his memory, his youth and his magic alive. 

Through my art - through my text - through my narrative - through my teaching. 
I don't know. 
But I know I must - it has become my "art with purpose".

Art

With

Purpose.