she left seven years later

|   1911 postcard from my great grandmother, thread, oil paint, water, ink, polaroid, icelandic stamp (12" x 12")

i never chose her.
she just wandered in.
it was a constant worth writing about.
a greater love i've never known.
then she left seven years later
and i've never been seen since.
there was a blackness that i barely know
and now i know so well.



"I thought what an awful thing is idealism when reality is
 so marvelous. There's a sense in words, more than meets the
 eye....So one loves an empty dream, perhaps through a lifetime"

- A Life of One's Own
  by Joanna Field