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Taken up in my hands, cradled lovingly and ever in motion

I feel the necessity of making, of understanding what it means to create. It’s trying to make an understanding of the soft, the pleasant, the tangible. An invitation to touch, to feel, to discuss. To sound out syllables until words form. Words to describe touch, while I softly press this into your hands, gently asking you to receive. What is yours and what is mine?

My process starts out of curiosity, a way to breathe life into the questions that leave my mouth. Curling around the words that feel soft, so they can feel soft out here too. It’s a way to find my place in the world. To share, to let others touch upon what I learned.