what is seen?

I need to see. I need to really see what colors I’m using for my art. And guess what? Sunlight and shadows can totally kill my ability to see any color. Ooops – time to move where I’m doing my art. Or at least where I’m choosing the colors. So I can see.

I was in the woods today, again. Along the trail there were imprints of animal tracks. The bright sun on the snow showed me the footprints vividly. No animal to see, but dark shapes as evidence.

When I moved in, my neighbor told me there’s a fox that roams around my house. Today, Nika says she has seen the fox. Twice. I never have. I’m outside with my dog. I don’t see what my daughter has seen.

I think I know. I think I know what I see. I think I know what I see even if I don’t see it.

Cecilia’s dad, Scott, knows what he sees. Yes. And then, Cecilia looks right back at him. What does she see?