Am I inspired by an early morning drive on the way to church in the station wagon with my wife of 18 years and my two sons, that, before Louis finishes serenading Ella, we’ve navigated in, through, and out of abandonment with sophisticated realms of everywhere else?
Am I a racist because I choose to segregate my colors with clear and divisible lines so that there will be no confusion about one’s place and purpose?
Maybe I should feel embarrassed that even while the sun shines through our dining room window, casting questionable shadows from a chair on the adjacent wall, that I sometimes feel more refreshed to stare at the hypnotic light coming from behind our computer, cell phone or television screen.
Should I be concerned that I’m motivated by the visual strength given from the standing forests of “man made” that seem to always overwhelm the abundance of what truly is possible and impossible?
Because of this and that, I see nouns and I work.