That’s what these designs tell me. The trees feature in them in many forms. Fine detail of the mottled bark in shades of brown and gray and green and red and blue. And in black and white. Cracked branches and hollow trunks twisted in agony. Roots exposed above the earth. Knees bent in prayer. Trees in flight. Trees in dance. Trees caught in a whirlwind. Trees in a trance. White branches spreading on a black background like the web of a demented spider. Ghost trees in all shapes and sizes, often so stylized you wouldn’t know they were ghost trees. You wouldn’t know they were trees at all. You would just feel their power from the goosebumps that run amok all over your body. At least, that’s what they do to me. Damn that Orpah with her sitar! And now these designs; all executed in wax crayons by an adept but naive hand. It’s been weeks since I retrieved them from the ghost tree and I can’t help but look at them every day. Before I sleep I take in every detail, and in the morning when I wake up I do the same.
