It's the dawn before Art Day 1, Morning.

As if 400 tiles weren't enough of a gift, our daring Patronesa of Masonite has gifted us an additional box of gessoed possibility. The Linguist is making plans to sweep them up. Off their feet and into our collective bosom. We've decided we will be dropping these gifts like crumbs along a trail. Will be asking the world around us to devour these crumbs, and still make it possible for us to find our ways home. There have been peeps of silver ink poking through words in our conversation. Rubber stamps. Postage. Journeys. Evidence that we have been there. And witnessed each other. A gessoed crumb. Waiting for your fingertips.

~The Conceptualist