Maybe it was to learn how to listen. To see. To love. She knew there would be singing again. The evidence perched ready on her shoulder. She knew that to raise her voice, her fists, would only scare that song away. She knew whatever she said about them would reveal more about her. So the heart gathered, not on sleeve, but on shoulder. Breathing in the words, the melody, the grace of all that she would sing.
I am an author and an artist, originally from the US, now living, loving and creating in the south of France.
I show my fine art throught the US and Europe, and sell my books, art and images throughout the world.
www.jodihills.com
