What we love with passion undoes us. This is known.

So in choosing love we accept death.

Embrace it.  Know that it comes regardless.

Some claim to love life, yet simply fear death.

The inevitable.

They straddle the sidelines.  Forever safe.

From a comfortable distance.  And they live.  They exist.

But what life is this?

Is it better to risk all and love with passion?

…or quietly from the womb like cocoon of a reclining chair?


S. Conde




I Am She

Andres Conde ArtShe used to be me.  That is, I used to be she.

I have since unzipped and stepped out of her skin, quite literally.

I could not speak of her then, as I could never, ever, see, the massive forest for the surrounding trees.

She was the walking wounded.  The prey.  Or predator maybe.

Either way, now she is me.  I am she, and I can very, very, clearly see.


S. Conde