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  • The winter I carved the two marble figures it seemed to snow every day.
    I carved white marble and the sky was filled with white.

    I carved until my hands cracked, then continued again the next day.

    I walked out at sunset, into the snow, and it seemed that the entire world around me was carved from stone.

    What was I making other than a monument to my own sense of loss?


    I learned how to carve the night I saw a small marble relief by Donatello at the Metropolitan Museum.
    It was a version of the Feast of Herod, and was a feast for my eyes.
    The way he undercut a handrail in the center of the piece struck me with an almost physical force.
    I understood what he was saying through the muffled passage of time.

    What I learned that night felt like a remembering, like an awakening.
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