My first very tiny painting of the month. Truth be told, I’m running out of room. Sometimes I wonder if small paintings “count.” I wonder if simple images matter.
And then, just like that, I read a poem from one of the 31 group members who is writing every day. It’s a beautiful tribute to her mother where small, everyday objects take on huge significance. Beauty isn’t always big. Truth not always earth-shattering.
So grateful for these small efforts, this little community, these big hopes.