Artsy, angsty, autistic, and alliterative. Community activist. Lover of storms, sunsets, and moonrises.
I never shut up about things that matter.
She dances through springlight—untamed, becoming.
She burns in summer’s heart—creator, protector.
She whispers through autumn winds—seer, shadow, sage.
Three faces, one soul—cycling the moon’s eternal path.
I have entered the season of the crone.
She dances through springlight—untamed, becoming.
She burns in summer’s heart—creator, protector.
She whispers through autumn winds—seer, shadow, sage.
Three faces, one soul—cycling the moon’s eternal path.
I have entered the season of the crone.
I will not key the car that nearly ran me over in the parking lot.
I will not key the car that nearly ran me over in the parking lot.
I will not key the car that nearly ran me over in the parking lot.
I will not key the car that nearly ran me over in the parking lot.
I tutor, write, make music, and create art here. It's dark, moody, and totally mine—keyboard lit by candlelight, violin on the wall, floral arrangements straight out of a gothic fairytale.
And the bed’s right there when my work is complete.
I tutor, write, make music, and create art here. It's dark, moody, and totally mine—keyboard lit by candlelight, violin on the wall, floral arrangements straight out of a gothic fairytale.
And the bed’s right there when my work is complete.