Excerpt from Letter

The notion of home is interesting during this trip. If home is where the heart is than home is with you. I have packed up my life into two backpacks and headed to a foreign land. I accepted the invitation and honor to come but it was not my choice of destination. I came to do what I know and adapt what I do. I came blind in the ways of customs and came with almost no knowledge of this place. But I am resigned to lay my head wherever it may rest and make the unknown my home.

I walk the same path to work everyday, turn left out of the front gate, right across the bridge, then left after the bridge to the studio. I retrace those same steps home for lunch and then back again to the studio. Once I close shop for the day I make a small detour and turn right after the bridge to get on-line at the mayor's office. I take in the same sights and sounds, say hello to the same people I pass. I visit the same tiny market. I have a place to rest, a place to work and a few places to play. There are no trails to hike or bike, no theater, no store to rent DVD's, no TV for that matter. A certain amount of personal freedom has been lost as I have been tethered to others.

It is strange to up root and plant in a place so off my personal radar, to call home something so unfamiliar. To try and let go of everything I am accustomed to and yet still try to find myself in my work and keep a sense of myself so that I may live.