Between the bookends, there has always been a butterfly balanced.  It’s like me focus on the rigid and unyielding elements of the story;  maybe you think that way, too.  But that hasn’t meant the butterfly wasn’t there, becoming and changing, continually unfolding.  Lately I am taking little peeks into the tender, iridescent wing-like pages.  What do I have to lose?

You can’t make a butterfly story just one way, but you also can’t make everything in one afternoon.  Sometimes an image is just a start, and I always hope they are open-ended.  Now that I have made this image, and decided to share it with you, other ways to tell the tale suggest themselves.  That’s why it takes at least 29 butterflies, maybe even more, to see what I have to say.