It's late and I find myself unable to sleep, so instead I'd like to show you something Sophie made yesterday.
It was resting against the bookshelf when I came home, a tiny world hidden within the radius of a penny.
It's hard to describe how Sophie's artwork affects me. Sometimes I feel buried by a sense of withdrawal, of keeping things to myself, of being quiet in moments which call for vivacity, of smiling when the occasion calls for a laugh. I don't mean to sound melodramatic nor do I know how to adequately explain it, but I've come to see in situations where one might expect a certain reaction to surface, mine often stays hidden beneath. Half the time I don't know how to find it myself.
But Sophie's artwork finds it. It finds me, immediately, and never fails to elicit a reaction which comes to the surface, leaving me floundering in whatever it is: wonder, happiness, delight, awe.
A secret wellspring of all these things, admiration, and love.
ETA: and then this morning, she came downstairs with these...
There's no way she could know how she just captured scenes from my childhood, the aching beauty of the mountains I grew up in, these memories imprinted on my heart to this day.