Words cannot begin to express myself or my overflowing mute eyes. Each time I begin to write, the emotion is caught back in the shell of my crackly fragile heart and language does no justice to any of what has happened, nor does it describe any of what is to come. Where I have prided my words to have flowed with abundance and precision, I now stand astonished, abject, ashamed of my boast. Maybe music, I tell myself, will speak better, or pictures. A thousand random words- adjectives, verbs, nouns, auxillaries and determinants- all jumbled, fall like rain in the snap of a shutter and the viewfinder stands as a portal, imminent, promising, past and future all at once. A new world forms from each fallen letter and each uttered phoneme. Colours rise and fall, discreet, outrageous, monotone, sepia, panoramic. And as one cautious foot in a pale grey shoe crosses the threshold of a new time-space, I am enveloped with the delicious realisation that I do not cross alone. Thank you for being here.