It has been a year of existential wrestling that has visited my life in a variety of forms, everything has now disappeared and I am left alone and wondering, How did this happen? Why did I allow this to happen? It was the end of the road, we all must come eventually to the end of our road, the one we chose to walk down all those eons ago. We start each new track with hope or fear, either one still requires we take a step and then another and then time passes and you've taken a thousand steps and your life unfolded and then woops! crossroads again. The last stretch of this road was a mountain, treacherous and unfamiliar terrain. At least towards the end the weather was good, it was sunny and the vista was beautiful. I never tire of opening my eyes and seeing the beauty around me now, but the road itself is still stony. In my heart it feels like I walk a tightrope, the thin strand I place one foot in front of the other is perhaps called hope, whilst on either side of me, in a space that stretches far away into the inky darkness of that which ultimately descends into nothingness, is fear. Fear is all around me and I take one quivering step, toes clenched around the strand that holds me upright, fighting the pull of gravity, towards a place that I want to believe exists. This place is a home, a studio, a solidity of sorts that I can return to and know this is where I can rest, create, propose and dare to roam from, because I can return at the end of the day's journey and be still and at peace. But life is a paradox, for having stepped onto the tightrope, I saw things I had not seen before, experienced things I hadn't experienced before, learnt things about myself I didn't know and made connections with so many good people that I would never have met if I had never been vulnerable and curious. I have also learnt how to balance on a tightrope, unburdened myself from many possessions so I can take lighter and longer steps, learnt to love more openly and know more than ever, that this is my life, the journey is my life.