I tell stories. Sometimes I use words, sometimes I use images. Sometimes they’re my own, sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they’re true, sometimes they’re not. Some of my projects are works for hire, others are labors of love. This is not comprehensive. It is intended as an amuse bouche—not an entrée. There are folks who focus on one particular topic or style of writing. I am not one of them. I am building a life, not a platform. I tell stories.
“Moody morning.”
“Fig-o-vision”
“Final flourish of okra flowers.”
“Hipstadog mono”
“Grasp of berries’ last gasp”
“Garden goddess.”
“Sculpture taking flight.”
“Sleepy boy…”
“Lambert’s cove reflections.”
