So I start to wonder how did I get here?

“lines all cross and intersect, so where do all the lines connect?”

A drawn line, a woollenline and then?

So more than 40,000 years ago one of my ancestors drew a line, or rather many of my ancestors in different places and different times made their marks, marks still visible today, able to instill wonder and inspire  questions about identity and meaning.

A fragile thing, identity. Slippery when measured  against others. A thing that appears to change as it merges with the background, blossoms and seems to fade. But like a mark made on a cave wall persists.

And what is meaning?

Who is ‘they’?I ? us? you?

From moment to moment

Side by side we look at the same vase of dying flowers and find different ways to articulate what we see

Sitting side by side we support each other to try another way to articulate the world at any given moment