The rains are here; Dampness has moved in. Sweaters unearthed from the very bottom of drawers. Blankets accumulating near all sitting surfaces. It's not winter, but it's close enough. The cold season is approaching.
The kids and I have been on our own for the last week while my husband deals with the Tigray situation in Ethiopia. It's such an odd feeling being in Kenya alone, without him. A bit like drifting.
I find myself going deeper into my art. The faces coming through me, to me, until I fall in love with each one as if I know them. I really do wonder sometimes if I am going mad. Everywhere I look I see faces now: within tree trunks, petals, shower walls. If this is madness, let it take me. I think I may finally meet myself there.
I've been going back and forth as to whether to keep going with this blog. It's been a long time, filling it with my memories, hoping to touch yours. My paintings are now telling my story and I find the words are not flowing as freely. The older I get the more I am leaning into silence, and paint. Maybe it's just the pandemic, the isolation. Maybe when I look up again...