Photographs I took during the sixteenth week of this year when there were few roads I did not travel after dark and I longed for the night to hold a little longer. 

Last week felt like a body tired at the end of a long day. In my legs I felt the strength of climbing two mountains. In my chest I felt the fullness of bearing witness to all those mountains. And my eyes, they felt wider from counting all those stars. But my spine, it felt the weariness of working hard for a job with little reward. Finally, in my heart I felt the lightness of ending my week at King Street Church. 

Easter through the light of the window my mom gave to my dad when they first married with a note "Let's build a home around this."  Easter in light of the home that was. Easter in the light of the home I continue to build. 

Last week, after less than a month, I lost my job at the Women's Fund of the Blue Ridge. A reminder that sometimes things don't turn out like you would like them to. This week re-ignighted a passion for photography and the place I am from that I have not felt since I was writing my senior thesis at UNCA.  I went to the Appalachian Studies Association  Conference at East Tennessee State University, it was wonderful and exhausting. I met so many fantastically intelligent people. I had a chance to meet Roger May and his amazing panel of photographers; Megan King, Pat Jarrett, and Kate Fowler, (If you are not following the Looking at Appalachia Project please check it out). Hearing them speak about the project I came to a glorious and terrifying realization: I want to be in Appalachia, I want to go to grad school to study Appalachian Studies, and I want to be a part of Looking at Appalachia through my own photography. Glorious because my heart quivers and quakes with purpose. Terrifying because my worried mind shivers and shakes with the logistics of making that move. Last week, after less than a month, I lost my job at the Women's Fund of the Blue Ridge. This week I didn't care so much.