When I was a little girl I loved going to our attic uncovering secrets. I’ve been writing stories long before I knew how to write. There were so many hidden treasures, so I’d just wipe the dust off and my fingers would run curiously on findings. I’d touch the pages of old books and wonder how someone felt they wrote the words – and how someone else felt when they read them. I’d make life move with life again. Hearts are such quiet hunters. Secrets hide behind the windows but there is no place that doesn’t see us. And no matter what happens in life, our heart may cry but then it’ll start sentences with “what if maybe”. Hearts are always hopeful. We hold a love. We hold a pulse.

I spent some time in Italy and while I absolutely loved the entire country falling in love with absolutely everything, Venice was a past life love. The type of love you need to stop and take a deep breath for because you are not sure that you have a body and you are not sure what “time” is – because suddenly times across realities have collapsed. As soon as I went there, I knew my way around the city – as if I had spent so many lives there before. Every time I think of it, I have one forever image – I am laying in bed watching white veils shaping silk silhouettes as warm wind breezes through arched windows overlooking the waters.

“Venice in Veils” on page 157 was one of the first poems that I wrote.

white snow fell. it should have been veils on my shoulders. a snow so white – it is scraping windows and shredding stars. erasing streets and stairs. i never knew how far we’d walked. a snow so white… it should have been veils falling on my shoulders. it should have been forever. now only venice is in veils. no. this is snow, this is snow. and this snow is so white, it is red and the red cardinal is here and red snow begs for ink. snowdrops get here before me. maybe spring really is near. how can life forget? i am holding a pulse. pumping imprints, shaping skins. and there are loves greater than all other loves and forevers. i’ll know them only when i am a mother.