Morning is blue, gray, or hovering somewhere in between. Bird calls, blue days, daylight. Blue — the color of horizons, throat center, communication. The color of bird wing, Sunday, ocean. Blue the bright spark of the bluejay who comes and calls. Sometimes shout, sometimes softer, singing a loud song for food, for mate, for protection, to punctuate morning and evening; other calls, quiet, a whisper song. On the nature of life, atmosphere, connection, and vocalizing.
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Thank you all for the Odette Press birthday love last week. To celebrate, enjoy 20% off journals and cards, and 20% off paid subscriptions forever through July 30. Share this letter with a friend, share your favorite parts on Instagram, or come to class. If you’re in Brooklyn, sign up for Suminagashi: Meditative Marbling Thursday at McCarren Parkhouse in Greenpoint or Tuesday at Grimm Artisanal Ales in East Williamsburg. See you there with ink, breath, paper, and water.
