My love affair with books probably began in the womb because my mother was a voracious reader. She instilled in her children the knowledge that a lifetime of adventure and excitement could be found in books. There has never been a time in which I have been empty handed or without a book nearby.
When altering books I am always looking for the actual book to speak to me. If I have not read the book beforehand, I begin a scan through looking for words and phrases that capture my imagination. When I began this book I was thinking of the novel I swear is inside of me. The words were flowing but not on the blank page. As I deconstructed the book “The Gentle Grifter” by O. Henry the words began dancing and drifting on my table. That dance made me think of Willow trees and my paper words became stuck in the bare branches. I saw the tree book as all the words that are adrift and waiting for the chance to become a book to be held.
