A journal of narrative writing.
Michelangelo, “Pieta”

Beyond the stars inside noon, light you see by teaching yourself to adopt blindness, another light waits to be taken on, the light inside invisibilities. That’s why I write these lines, to enter in. Beginning, I am there. Itís that simple. The map I’m smashing inside Mary’s face because I’ve wanted to assemble it so I could reassemble who I am when I return here in my mind—that map many a morning brings me here to pray, by which I mean inscribing what I hear inside these traceries of suffering stone. Many a moment I have entered grace such as the stars, invisible, must know— they never thought they’d be reflecting me.