Love Letters to Lafayette

The first letter began with a stoop, a late afternoon, and the particular blue of a door I had walked past for years.

This project gathered ordinary observations — a baker opening up, a magnolia losing its last flower, the sound of a screen door — and treated them as evidence of belonging.

The resulting series was shared as a printed chapbook and a small reading circle. It remains an ongoing practice: looking long enough for a place to look back.