Liberty’s Climb

My own design work. I am for hire if you’d like original pics for your publications and projects.

She cries, she knows that a strong dislike bounces the sound-rings beside her.
She laughs, through sniffles, to nostalgia how it once was mild, and open.
Not that fierce would have always been a monster.
But every space needs a dash of softness, of skin-touch, of embrace.
And that’s what the giant lady, in the water, reminded her of.
That’s why she paid the fare, once a month.
To rekindle that torch, to smell those waters.
To smile at the opening to a sea.
A sea of endless people.
People who could be somebody.
People who could breathe.
People who could surrender, a piece of themselves, to join, a fabric of gentle and fire . . .