Last night the work on this earth that Margi did came to an end. I spent part of my day scrolling through her travel logs and enjoying some of the beautiful collages from her “raw material: from the road in asia” collection. Most of the pieces are created from papers and other found items which she collected and put together in India, but I love the pieces from Burma the most. Simple waves, burnished gold, exotic words forming a language that needs no translation.
Margi, sometime soon let’s talk, now that you’re freed up from the ordinary ties that bind. Thanks for coming to my wedding — I still remember you in your head-to-toe black, with that awesome crew cut. I love you. And I just don’t have any language for it.