pine cone

On a bookcase in my home office is a tiny piece of shed seal fur I spotted on a beach in New Zealand, a Douglas fir pine cone I absconded with from a forest floor in British Columbia, and a piece of shale I picked up from the rocky shores of Newfoundland. Looking at these mementos I’ve picked up on several journeys near and far reminds me of my travels; and arranged as they are in a circle, they create a “map” of sorts, a visual representation of where I’ve had the great fortune of going to in the world and the arc I traveled back home.