3 drawing and a poem by Diane Austin, Four Minutes
Our friendship began in the publishing houses of New York City when photographers, editors and journalists had real faces. I can still visualize, smell and hear The Associated Press or The Bettmann Archives as I walked into their offices. We relished in the information we were exposed to. Publishing is another world today and after Diane moved back to the west coast, our friendship only grew stronger. We communicated quite often and our mutual interest in all that is curious and amazing and magical continues to weave through our conversations. Diane knows so much about so many things. We laugh about it in pure agreement. Diane Austin does and is many things, among them she is a poet. Above is one of her many beautiful poems she sent me. The drawings below are images that I created as I was reading it.