The cycle of life and death has mostly been a bunch of ideas for me. I have, however, become more afraid of death since having a child. My fear comes from the longing to be apart of my son’s life. This same longing has at times made my very ordinary life seem extraordinary. When I really take the time to look at the subtle nuances in value and color in an overcast sky I can find something quiet but dramatic in its own way. Winter is often monotonous, but sometimes it seems magical, ominous and precious. All and all and in little bits.