Acrylic on Canvas

"In the window the moon grew larger, gradually filling the whole pane, forcing all the shadows to recede. And in the unbearable luminosity and she found herself slipping up through the covers floating above herself, her form below rolling to the side, a perfect mirror to her husbands curled shape. Up through the ceiling and into the silent night. Nights are rarely truly silent. It was as if the sound track had been fully deleted. She could feel the beat of her own heart in her chest but the sound of it, a familiar accompaniment to her thoughts, was missing. She remembered something she’d read that day. That there were two chemicals evolved eons ago to allow muscles in insect wings to contract and relax and when one was absent, the wings grow but they cannot flap. And it’s the same two proteins that are responsible for the beating of the human heart. Is it possible that dreams and waking life are like those- causing our soul to flutter and fly she wondered?"