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Word Art: Trailing

I’d bought a handful of small frames from a thrift superstore that opened recently near where I live.  This was made on a small piece of paper cut to fit that frame.  I started with two pens and the general idea to alternate colors with more lines per color as I progressed.  I pretty much did the whole thing in one sitting while listening to jazz at The Glenwood one fine Wednesday night.



Hey, you!

Yes, you.

You, the person squinting and trying to read this.

Guess what?

No, really, guess what?

You are amazing.

You are beautiful.

You are a gift of God’s creation.

You are the only you who will ever be in the entire history of humanity.

So there.

So, what are you going to do with this singular gift?

What will you leave behind that no one else on this Earth can leave behind?

Your path has already left traces behind you, like the wake of a boat moving through the water.

But do you truly want to be that haphazard?

What if you carved a path marked by the footprints you have no choice but to leave, so that those who come after you will see where you stepped and where you stood?

Every life should have at least one point where tracks run deep, where a stand was taken, a line was drawn that says “this, and no more” and the footprints are sunken deep into the earth where you planted yourself.

If there is no such indentation in the path that lies over your shoulder, know this–it is never too late to plant your feet in the ground and say to this world: “This is who I am, this is as I stand, and I will not be moved an inch from it.”

It is your life. Live it.

It was the first piece I ever sold.  At the opening of the Upper West Side Folk Art Market, even as the snow was coming down as thick and fast as I’ve ever seen it come in Atlanta, a few brave souls came out and one of those brave souls was a man named Ernest, who loved my work from the beginning and decided to buy a piece as a Valentine’s Day gift for his wife.  I read the words to him and the deal was sealed.  All seventeen dollars of it.

I promptly spent the money that very evening on a small bowl of Pho Tai at So-Ba and a cover charge to see two loud rock bands at 529.  (The Forty-Fives and The Howlies.  I highly recommend both of them.)  It was that kind of a night.

Prints of this work are available here.

The original has been sold.

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