I have this memory as a child of lying in bed not able to fall asleep and getting caught up in the sounds & smells riding the cool night air in through the window by my bed. This happened often, actually. There’d come a point where it felt like I could actually dive into that stream and slip, my mind at least, out the window. It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to travel like that. Somehow the experience found its way to the page, summoned by the alchemy of paint, and ink, and thread, and salt, and collage, and plant dyes.