By the age of 12, both his parents had died of tuberculosis. Conrad's father was a poet and a translator; I assumed that at an early age, Conrad developed creative insight and interest. Conrad joined the Merchant Marine and travelled the world. One morning in particular, he just began writing...describing the sunlight on the "roofs and windows." Despite his loss, he never forgot beauty. ( He wrote, "It was an autumn day ... with fiery points and flashes of red sunlight on the roofs and windows opposite, while the trees of the square with all their leaves gone were like tracings of an Indian ink on a sheet of tissue paper.")
As usual, tomorrow I will awaken and post about another amazing creative, or two. As I see it, the infinite exposures of our lives, and the glimpses looking into the lives of other creatives only fuels the energy and validates that art, in any form heals, and convinces us to really see.
Mom and dad, THANK YOU.
To all of you who have helped shape my experiences,