All week the sketchbook was filled with doodles of caves. Just the openings. Their insides remaining a mystery. Growing up my parents would refer to my bedroom as one, calling out, "She's going to hide in her cave!" as I stomped up the seventeen stairs.
It was a place where anything and everything could be imagined and hoped for.
This one is still being created in the glow of one of Jude's silky moons.