☾ she who hears ☽
earth tones, birthstones, and erogenous zones
Dear Maurice Sendak,
I’ll be honest, I don’t know much about you, but I know that your need to create images of and with words has forever influenced the building philosophy through which I am learning to thrive.
I remember being in the front room of my old house, in my purple oversized t-shirt, and staring at the ceiling from our shiny new bunk bed. I asked Papa to read Where the Wild Things Are to us on my first night sleeping closer to the stars. I recall thinking that I wanted to dream a little bigger that night. I pulled my cream-colored crochet blanket up to my chest and I thought in my 5-year-old mind,
I want to be a wild thing.
I knew then that a wild thing could not be tamed, a wild thing cannot be kept inside, a wild thing will not be silenced or stopped, and that a wild thing can never be fully captured. I know now that a wild thing must simply be.
So mahalo and aloha a hui hou to you Mr. Sendak.
To your raw and honest art, to your simple yet complex creativity.
I’ll honor your life by forever being a free and wild thing.