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in september (ii)

      i. the grapes are ready. and they are delicious.
      ii. my sister dried some parsley.
      ii. i took some dance classes (ow).


the morning stretched

It was one of those late mornings because I didn't feel like getting up early (that's been happening a lot lately, but who wants to wake up to a math textbook?). I guess the sun was feeling that way too, because I still got to capture some of that glorious morning light just before it slipped away.
And the morning stretched and stretched and s t r e t c h e d until it was noon and then afternoon until eventually a whole day had passed. But that morning had been captured. In my camera. Stretching, waking up, shaking off the grogginess of nighttime.
That's photography for you. Absolutely, beautifully amazing.



Calling all Artists: Live Fuse

It was an undeveloped idea in her head long before I even knew how to do my multiplication and division problems.
But it was there.
Begging to break out, to bloom.
Then I had a similar idea a few years ago, inspired by the Rabbit Room. It went in its own direction, starting an artsy little group that tries to get together once a month.
But then something bigger happened. In August, a fuse was lit, and ideas exploded everywhere.
She thought she wanted a coffee shop, but then after deeper pondering, she knew what she truly wanted: a place. A place where people could come together and be themselves, to enjoy art and be in community with other artists.
And then, my soul bubbly with excitement, I gave her my idea, identical to the one she had just fully discovered. We settled on the couch in her living room, brainstorming away and sorting through the problems but mostly focusing on how much we knew this would happen.
It had to.
And it will.
One of these days (hopefully soon), we will have a physical place that those of Live Fuse (don't you just love that name? I love that name) can call home. But right now? Right now, we have our own little place online.
We give our art to those willing to look, and we soak in as much beauty as we possibly can. So come join us. We would love to have you, even if you just want to look. More artists means more beauty. And more beauty means a better life.
This is my passion. This is what I want my life to be about. I want to show people that my God is a beautiful God, and that He created us to create after Him. That's the right way to serve people, I think. You show them God's beauty. Not just in art—but in life. Finding beauty in every situation and making every situation beautiful.
So be a part of my passion, and let it be yours as well.



in september (i)

i. a good book and some delicious iced tea.
ii. i'd pretend i like green peppers, but ew.
iii. my window captured light.


an excerpt [10]

From The Dixon Project. Enjoy.
. . . .
    Halfway through class, Amber slid into her left split next to Jeremy.
   “Have you heard from Alyssa?” Jeremy asked. “In the news, there was something about a shooting right in front of her house with two teenage girls. You walked home with her last night, right?”
   Amber’s stomach dropped. He doesn’t know. “I…Yes, I was with her.”
   “It wasn’t you two, was it?” Jeremy’s face had gone pale. “She’s okay, right?”
   “She’ll be fine. She got shot in the left arm. No bone damage.” Amber shifted, eyeing the floor.
   “You—you were the other girl? Are you all right?”
   “Is she still in the hospital? Did she go to the hospital? She went, didn't she?"
   “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her at all.” Amber leaned forward, resting her head on her shin. “School has been difficult.”
   “But you’re homeschooled. How much school do you actually have to do?”
   “Enough to practically strangle me,” she growled.
   Dara walked in then, wearing a black leotard with crisscrossed straps in the back. She sat down with caution next to Amber and pulled on her shoes, silent shaky.
   “You all right, Dara?” Amber asked.
   Dara hesitated but nodded. “Fine.” She picked at a loose thread on her flats. “Just tired. How are you? I heard what happened last night.”
   Amber narrowed her eyes. If Jeremy didn’t know, how did Dara find out? “How did you know?” She switched to her other split.
   Dara’s eyes widened while her fingers tightened around the thread. “I—well, um… Madame Faylinn told me.” She shrugged, managing a smile.
   “Oh,” Amber said. Sure, she thought.
. . . .
And that's that. Did you like?
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Bekah Joan
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