Impressions flood in on me: grayness; verticality; burning; ice, splitting; verdancy. The distant; the present. Wild swathes of light, of intense growth—is that a tree? a body of water? fire? Cold, crisp, thin air? I am standing in a small, warmly lit gallery. Paintings on the third and fourth days of creation surround me. Substances…

“I found the safest place to keep all our tenderness / Keep all our bad ideas / Keep all our hope / It’s here in the smallest bones / the feet and the inner ear / It’s such an enormous thing to walk and to listen” —The Weakerthans, “My Favourite Chords” I need to be…