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heavy, hollow | These are the things I'm made of
https://thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com/2015/04/14/heavy-hollow
These are the things I'm made of. Grieving the loss of our stillborn son. April 14, 2015. But sometimes, your absence hits me like a punch in the gut, and I feel you, heavy and hollow beneath my ribs, my ghost belly. I want to curve around you protectively and weep and weep for all that we have lost. This entry was posted in Reflections. 2 thoughts on “ heavy, hollow. April 15, 2015 at 2:21 pm. Yes Exactly this. But you said it better than I could. Lately more gut punches for some reason. Always My 3 Boys.
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two and a half (the loss of you) | These are the things I'm made of
https://thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com/2015/06/28/two-and-a-half-the-loss-of-you
These are the things I'm made of. Grieving the loss of our stillborn son. June 28, 2015. Two and a half (the loss of you). Walking through the house claiming rooms. Touching this, touching that. Standing on tiptoes to see over. Crouching down to peer under. Your chubby legs, in shorts for the summer, lengthening. Able to climb onto the sofa without a stool, then onto the bed. Sitting at the table sometimes instead of your high chair. Your babbles. Your first words. Complete sentences. There are still a h...
andrearaejensen.com
Andrea Jensen
http://www.andrearaejensen.com/index.php
andrearaejensen.com
Andrea Jensen | Artist Statement
http://www.andrearaejensen.com/statement
My work explores the cultural disconnect that lies between understanding our relationship with the natural environment and our drive toward economic prosperity. I am curious about our seemingly insatiable material desires, which have led to the very consumption of the natural environment. Poetry has been lost, replaced with rational thinking. Lost also are the subtleties of the human experience, and forgotten are the scarred landscapes around us.
andrearaejensen.com
Andrea Jensen | Work
http://www.andrearaejensen.com/work
thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com
her story | These are the things I'm made of
https://thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com/2015/02/16/her-story
These are the things I'm made of. Grieving the loss of our stillborn son. February 16, 2015. Feeling Joseph’s absence a lot lately. No particular reason. Except maybe I’m so in love with M that I am stunned by all I am missing. This entry was posted in Reflections. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email.
thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com
tender | These are the things I'm made of
https://thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com/2015/03/16/tender
These are the things I'm made of. Grieving the loss of our stillborn son. March 16, 2015. A piece up on Glow. This entry was posted in Reflections. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email.
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storytelling | These are the things I'm made of
https://thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com/2015/04/27/storytelling
These are the things I'm made of. Grieving the loss of our stillborn son. April 27, 2015. Thinking a lot about stories, since I heard Margaret Atwood speak. Some thoughts on Glow. This entry was posted in Reflections. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new posts via email.
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today, 1/31 | These are the things I'm made of
https://thethingsimmadeof.wordpress.com/2015/01/31/today-131
These are the things I'm made of. Grieving the loss of our stillborn son. January 31, 2015. My sister calls to tell me being an adult sucks. She says,. You’d think things like addiction, losing your job, and babies dying were rare events. But they’re not. They happen all the fucking time. Her dog is dying. Died. Today. Today, your due date, Little One. Due date, shmoo date. It could just be a day. A says. I think she is trying to say today doesn’t have to mean anything. But it’s too late. Today, already,...