My work with line and narrative has been a continuous thread of my story for years, resurfacing when I most need to make sense of my own story. My tangled line follows no path as each narrative unfolds, diffracting the reflection I have grown accustomed to. At first glance, these compositions read highly narrative, at second glance one notices that the in-between spaces are populated with nuances, additional small drawings, text and otherwise. The margins likewise whisper secrets only shared if one takes the time to sink into the entire image. Stories require time to be told and understood. The heart of these pieces is not what is at first seen, but the co-composed events, and sensuous encounters which preceded the emergence of the image at this precise moment in time. Actions populate the surface of the paper offering stories of movement, tensions, complex relationships, and intersections of experience across time.