In the process of making this, it was as if I was reading a poem through each impression on the paper. It is of suffering through a darkness of wounds that have yet to quite heal. While they begin to block portions of the light, it still has not took over. The darkness, the bold part of it, had finally ended. Now, as time has passed the wounds are beginning to be treated with the greatest care and fragility. This state will last for some time, patience is to be harnessed. Those soft marks ease the light to grow again through their tender whispers of love.
This painting done in the middle of the night helped me to see more clearly the experiences I have gone through, their importance, and equally their strong connection that still remains through my physical identity despite my desire to forget it. I am more conscious of it now then I was before, and this is the sole reason I am unendingly pulled to express.