The body contains so much brutal honesty with its hesitations of being and laboring. 

Within the intimacies of gesture, deep inhalations, one-foot-in-front-of-the-othering 

are tiny moments of revelation. 

I understand the creative act to be a fundamentally hopeful endeavor. 

We move to be moving, and to locate ourselves. 

We move because the effort of making wraps us in the danger and power of newness. 

The purpose is not to make beauty, but to engage in the process of knowing more truths.