Thorns | East Wenatchee, WA | May 2019

Once in awhile, beauty makes you bleed. Climb mountains, sculpt marble, pick roses — you’re subject to pain and puncture all in the name of splendor. Most unsettling, though, are artful moments that prick your emotional poise. They slice through defenses, nick the heart, and can chafe for years. I often rub at the memory of a nun dancing solo to a jazz band outside the cathedral in New Orleans. Misty morning, crisp white robes, closed eyes, rapturous smile. That was four decades ago, but it lingers razor sharp.