Several months ago I was living in a shelter. Today I sleep on the floor in my Mom’s apartment. Meanwhile I paint, sculpt, write (children’s stories, poetry, song lyrics, and plays), take an occasional photograph, all while cooking and cleaning for my mother, and other tasks that I wouldn’t have dreamt doing had I the full time job I had two years ago. Things are working out. Why question the process. Just doing what I am doing, trying a bit harder to organize my time and complete what I’ve begun so many times over…the persistence factor.  I won’t give up.  Play this to the tune of “I won’t grow up…”

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