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rites of passage


I am interested in boundaries. In social transgression, not necessarily in large flamboyant transgressions, but the small ones that begin perhaps as politeness, or apology, and solidify into lies and taboos.

Boundaries around age at both ends of life, around love and faith; and the confines we so often substitute for them. How we approach them, or how we don’t.

I’m interested in how people handle adversity, how they move through life and find strength in what sometimes seems like the insurmountable.


We place so many of these thresholds, these rights of passage at the feet of the youth, but they are just ritual moments in time, preparation for all those that follow, but follow without fanfare.


These life experiences emerge as tattoos on memory, indelible images painfully accumulated and for the fortunate, rebuilt as wisdom.

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