The ability to find pixilation amid the pixelation is at the essence of the gift of celestial Grace.

The relentless persistence of Light eventually exhausts darkness.

New York had pushed and bent and bullied, driving me underground to sort out the madness and sculpt my Being with my own hands in self-discovery on its cold pottery wheel and in the white heat of its kiln. The City enabled me to learn who I really was, as a pixelated man and member of Humanity.

New York City is where specks of dust aspire randomly with all their cunning to become grains of sand.