December 20, 2002
I walked down the basement stairs to find water drifting towards the drain on the cold, concrete floor. There was no area left dry. The cardboard boxes full of books and photos greedily absorbed much of it. Years of paintings and portfolios lay stacked haphazardly against the walls, canvas and paper soaked and seeping with the wetness. Carpets and throw rugs dripping and drenched. Could be it’s a sign. Maybe it’s time to discard all those old transgressions. Maybe it’s time to let go of the past. I’ve grown away from so much of it. It’s time to reinvent myself.