One thunderbolt strikes
root through everything.

        Heraclitus, fragment from On Nature

It’s a fact. A fellow wouldn’t mind seeing it washed up if he could just turn on the rain himself. 
Who is the man can do that? Where is the color of his eyes?
Ay. The Lord made it to grow. It’s His’n to wash up if he sees it fitten so.

        William Faulkner, As I Lay Dying

The earth is round, like an orange.

        Gabriel García Márquez , 100 Years of Solitude

b. 1995, ft. lauderdale
currently living & painting in the salt marshes of coastal NC
lecturer, art & art history, UNC wilmington
co-founder, co-director of racecar factory, 2020-2023 <3


for inquiries, please contact stellarhighway