In my forced solitude I have learned I am a reluctant introvert. I had not known I was one all my life. Though I have been forced into alones since my becoming aware at age 4. The never fitting in. The desperate need to be loved by someone. All this was the driving force of my failed experience of being. A husband and two children only drove the madness beyond belief. When he was gone and my two sons were locked up. One for a crime (my oldest). And one in an institution for what we now know as undiagnosed Autism (non verbal and aggressive) The sorrow of failure and solitude drove me to almost suicide. In that deep unforgiving self cry, came the art and photography. The salvation of a lost mind and soul. The lessons of seeing yourself and the those around you. It came through the deep sadness and the near death of my being. Here I saw who and what I thought I was . Who and what I wanted to be and who and what I am. Though the lessons are far from done I am not who I was. Yet I am closer to who I have always been in truth. In the deep places where I reside unknown to the walking me. Yet lived in sorrow by the feeling me. Here, where sorrow and art collided I came to see my sons, my parents, my sister, my friends, myself and a little of the world.