A lake of dreams fills the evening, as my breast becomes a pillow and a vase becomes the light.
Her tiny chest moves in a steady rhythm, her heart beating against mine. You can tell they know each other, our hearts. They seem happy to be reunited again.
I observe the juxtaposition of it; the peaceful child, nestled into the tired and worn down adult.
I hear the beckons of responsibility, the dirty dishes and the unfolded laundry. I feel myself stiffening with the anxiety it causes me.
My eye catches the vase.
For some reason, she speaks to me. I listen.
This moment will never be here again, so I re-enter it.
Here is where I stay, for as long as she wants me.
Various sized digital prints available, as well as the original artwork.

1. Desire to focus on these moments, so easy to ignore. But the vase – my life – is the most importrant thing, not the unwashed dishes that are also visible from the armchair, right?