visual art

hope

in ,

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.

-emily dickinson, #314

hope, after emily dickinson (2019)

30 days of collage

in

Recently I decided to do a scrap collage in my journal every day for 30 days. These are the results.

also on my instagram.