Many children, including myself, were throwaway children, abandoned, left behind in dark places or institutions where we should never have been, forgotten, unprotected, crimes against them concealed. You find ways to survive, build a life of your own, but as we age, we discover that some wounds can’t be left behind. If the truth remains hidden in the dark, rather than compassion and support, most throwaway children will receive only apathy and contempt. This was my journal entry yesterday; as this realization came to me, I tried but couldn’t find words at all to speak such a deep truth. All that my hands could speak was an image, and the grip of this image was quite overpowering. It was drawn, unplanned as always, in charcoal, oil pastels, acrylic, pen–pretty much everything, predominantly in shades of gray. Darkness and light are powerful energy, and this is how my mind felt it.
