A bed is just a bed
until you can’t leave it.

Mine became my home.

For months, I lay dreaming, imagining, hoping
Someday, someday…

I dreamed of all the art I would make
when I could hold a pencil again.
I imagined how I’d dance
when I could feel my hands.

Day after day, my bed was everything.
It was my transportation to another world,
Or a prison holding me hostage.

This shoot was to remember those days when my bed was more than a bed.