I've imagined and caught slivers of miracles. But I want a full-blown miracle.
As an artist, I'm going nuts.
If there's one thing I love, it's sweet-talking plants. Tu B'Shvat Sameach!
Even the breeze who incessantly sweet-talks the rose knows she was born thorned for good reason.
The power of silence, the limits of words... in essay form.
Valentine Shmalentine, where're my Devorah-hearts at?
Sometimes I wonder if creativity might just mean your brain fires signals around in an abnormal pattern. Bridges being made over uncharted territory. That would support the all to relatable reality of having your best ideas in the shower or while whispering thoughts to yourself while trying to fall asleep.
A response to the nonverbal cues of uncovered women.
This Hanukkah, the world is upside down. Let's flip the script.
