Sucked in by a force, I'm flying through a tunnel
The tunnel of memory that leads me back home
The past blurs my present, so my vision is double
The walls and the ceiling curve into a dome
From here I can see my home, tilting
And falling from place, all the lamps are aflame
My father's empty chair is slowly ascending
Tipped by the light, outlining its frame
This is the opening poem from my book, Home, and the preparatory sketch for its cover (see below) both originating from the same place, the same vision in my mind.
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My pencil sketch of my childhood home
inspired the oil painting that is now used for the cover art of Home
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