robert nesta marley calms every jittering nerve below the surface of my skin as his scratchy, melodic voice warbles across our little record player in our big, open living room. i sometimes dance across the floorboards, candle light flickering, incense burning, groovin' to his music, eyes closed, arms outstretched.
i created this tote yesterday, a child's tee shirt paired with a beautiful honey and blackly colored tapestry i rescued from a thrift store in bloomington on my birthday this year.
as i was running out of the house, carrying my green show tote and a bag of record bowls, i grabbed this tote. i dumped in my belongings haphazardly, flung it over my shoulder and tripped my way to the car.
at the black pearl, last night in hyde park, i met a very interesting woman, the wife of a fellow exhibitor, who told me her daughter would like to marry bob marley. being the "artist" i am, i sold her this tote off my shoulder. i bet her daughter is a lot like me and i can envision her dancing around her dorm room the moment she opens this package from her mother, hopefully to records instead of itunes :)