These spills of ink tore the sheets of fantasy which wrapped my eyes from seeing reality. Splotches of heavy ink drops created pieces and problems I wish I could sew back together, repairing everything from the past. What I’ve come to realize is that each spill brought awareness into my life, giving me a new-found appreciation for things I would have never seen or discovered before. My life begins to form an impressionist painting, each dot coming together to form a beautiful life. Some pieces may not be pretty or meaningful on their own, but they each bring along a dot or more around to build a significant part of the painting. I am still under construction.