I live by a lake in a city considered dangerous by some.Every day I am treated to the sights and sounds of Pelicans, Canada Geese, Cormorants, Arctic terns, Snowy Egrets, Blue Herons, Kingfishers, Coots, Ducks of many varieties. Construction Zones follow me. I fled one unwillingly at the behest of a landlord who would be king. Now in my lofty little nest on the sunny third floor, still construction haunts. Rennovation, first time ever foundation bolting down of a building ninety years old; disaster is averted perhaps, in this land of earthquakes. I feel safer. In this city construction is a constant reminder that I too construct. I make art from paint on canvas, wood, found objects. I carry the painted dimension from two into three, and finally into what some call assemblage, I often simply refer to it as sculpture. I move by foot and by bicycle across a landscape I call home toward my newer smaller studio across town: an old Bank of America building, my corner donated by the now deceased owner, my friend, my Fairy Godmother. Now her son has inherited me. The rent is happily affordable.