Our washstone in Goa, India.

I always questioned the existence of things, because they were different, and also because I was growing up in a world that was meant to be questioned. ~ Me

There were times I would walk around the back of my house, talk to my dogs and the trees, sit on big slabs of rock, or old barks of trees that had been cut to preserve the views of our vegetable garden, and observe everything that surrounded me. This included the grunts of the pigs, the…