The art is what you can’t explain about why it made you feel the way it did.
That jig-saw view of life taken apart, put back together.
And I just have to think, to consider the amount of loss I’ll feel when everyone is out of the house and it’s just me, positioning things exactly as they should be.
What little light from this, these broken clouds.
This is where they’d started their family, when it was their home.
Our lives become a summary of our decisions: the actions we take (or don’t take) that make us who we are.