I wanted words to look as they sound: delicately, twiningly musical. In the markings we wrote then I saw little of the beauty that I heard in their sound; the written word did not bring the meaning to life as did the words when spoken. Anar, Isil, i eleni. Hisie ar lindale. Do you see what I mean?
The fire within me does not rest at dissatisfaction. I tried to include in my creation – or one could perhaps say enhancement – the grace of leafy vines, the golden warmth of sunlight, and the chill renewal of soft rain. I studied the elegant designs my mother once wove. That was my first project.