Rituals

I cry almost every night before falling asleep, not from longing or love (okay maybe sometimes), but because I have made a ritual of reading a chapter each evening from The Elegance of the Hedgehog by Muriel Burbery. Taken by the economy and craft of her prose, I dole them out, these chapters, like rationed chocolate.

It reminds me of my grandmother's Upper Room, a devotional she read nightly in bed.

Renee's ravenous consumption of all that she has - art, and Paloma's method of notating profound thoughts and "movements not toward, but within."

Not much of a reader by nature, this is a parallel journey I want to prolong.

And like Paloma, I have an emergent structure for the veil of discipline with which I stitch my days together: front writing and back writing; and always, drawing.