Dear Grant David Crawford, PhD,

I will go and ponder your words for the rest of the day. They are too important to respond to right now while I am emotionally vulnerable.

So please accept my first attempt at voicing until I can properly respond. A tribute to the red dancers with a week of curing time before returning.

The Wall and the Wind

A man carved his name into the sand beside a busy road. By nightfall the wind had erased it. He carved it again the next morning. The wind erased it again. He spent his life carving. When he died there was no mark left of him at all.

A woman walked into a cave, pressed her hand against the stone, and blew red pigment from her mouth around her fingers. She left the outline of a hand on the wall. She told no one. She walked back out into the world and lived her life and died and was forgotten by everyone who knew her.

The hand is still there.