Then after these years of separation to find you creating the similar.
She said "Your paths are the same, but you living vicariously through, when you could be living all of that for yourself, you have in you."
Pause for thought. (it was 1996 for those that keep track).
So the road divided and the separation came. A long time travelled with the strong winds of Newfoundland on the mind. There was grief for a way that would never emerge, not a regret but certainly something similar. The beginning of the separate ways could be blamed on one pottery jar with an ill fitting cover. A crooked badly painted thing. All the inhibitions started with that one seemingly inanimate fired & shaped chunk of clay. the contents broke the intimacy apart. They smelled and odor is important to intimacy. Odor vs. aroma.
It was that and the unfinished woman in the painting that caused the lack of truth to be told when the question was raised. There was that precise question that could have held the road the same, but there in the uttering came this jar and it's odiferous contents. The fork was built by architects too young and scared to lay the plans right.
So in that it is strange and sweet to discover you creating the similar. One packed away in old trunks, hidden from public and one hanging on public walls, awaiting commerce. One stored, one sold and due to the characters involved you'd think it would be the opposite way round.
You continue to teach, you who considered yourself of no worth nor design to me.
And it has all to do with love.