ABOUT THREE years ago, I created my website as a place to house the photos and stories of my travels. Over the years, my site has become my artistic playground — my digital creative dojo. It represents who I am and what I love.

My spirit’s found a home in this world of words and colors and fonts; although reality’s my beating heart — the dirt beneath me shifts — the grass dies in the winter and grows greener in the summer sun; I listen to the rustle of the autumn leaves. Curious is the color of spring flowers.

I take my notes from living and devise them on the page, but it’s more than just the words. What story do they tell? The color, the type, the arrangement; what does the bouquet of language say about life?

Living in this world of creative expression has afforded me a childlike joy and a whimsical sense of meaning. The page is an enigma with no correct answer, only limitless potential, unlocked through a medley of words, colors, white space and fonts, resulting in an aesthetic which speaks a language of its own.

This is design, the way things fit together. My interest in design is why I love physical books, for it’s not just the story but the way the book looks, its weight, how it feels in the hand.

Are the pages soft? Is the book large and flat or pocket sized and dense? Is the typeface simple, elegant, bare? Why? Each book is a lesson in artistic perspective. Each a dark room, a canvas, a slate.

Books, typeface, fonts and color possess an ancient quality. This world of words is nothing new, yet it’s ever-changing, and the bounds are as subjective as our imaginations allow.

I’m captivated by words and the way words look, for the way they look upon the page is a sort of poetry itself. The way words look has to do with their font.

I love fonts. I can play with them for hours.

Font is design and it’s also understanding. Words fall like rain from the page as the sky; a drizzle is a sparsely filled screen leaping from white space, each drop is felt, the beginning of a coming storm, the warmth of spring when flowers bloom with color.

Color. I can’t understand it. Our world is made of it.

The color of spring flowers, the orange blossoms that I passed course through me. Color and font fashion language, creative perception, time and space — I play with font, inspired by a technological revelation, to meld the things intrinsic, what has always been — spring flowers — with all that’s meant to come: words unwritten in a typeface that’s clean and contemporary and breathes when set in stone or digital ink.