I have a few questions this morning, prompted in measure by the most recent class I’m taking over at Spirit Cloth.

What if silliness is a form of freedom?  And, if you decide being silly is important – can you make it happen? Or is it by definition spontaneous?

I can’t draw horses.  Should that stop me?

I am looking into slavery in all its grotesque specificity.  Reading about pestilence, torture, whippings, labor practices, the Middle Passage, transmission of culture, textile traditions, loss of culture, roles of mistresses, overseers.  Is it possible that such a weighty reading discipline ALONE ought to dictate a measure of specific whimsy… for balance?

What if I tipped the eaves, just a little, on some of my little houses, and they sprouted wings?!

And why don’t I dream about flying anymore?

Do you? Do you dream about flying?