A Love As Old As The Stars
by Claude Taylor
I wrote this while breastfeeding my son in the quiet hours of night, and hand painted it in the witching hours of night when the world was asleep. It began as a letter, my attempt to put into words a love that felt too vast for my lackluster mother tongue.

The book bends the rules of physics and time the way a mother’s love does. It moves through oceans, outlasts kingdoms, lives older than stars. It doesn’t ask to be rational. It asks to be true.

What started as something private, meant only for my son, became something friends asked to hold onto for their own children.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

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