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''Deep in the autumn of this year, I had a dream about a little boy with flaxy hair and skinny arms, building a wall with his hands, brick by brick. He worked steady and determined with a strength that seemed to surpass his small body. When he felt me watching him, he paused from his work and looked over his shoulder and said, 'When I was young, this was the best way I could imagine to be made by the world. To work upon material until it began to match the shapes inside my mind and heart, and to let that working make me. To let my body grow to be a record of the effort of my love.'

After the dream, that became a kind of prayer for me: Let my body be a record of the effort of my love."

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