At the risk of sounding like a cliché, I believe that art comes from the heart; at least for me it does, and always has. In fact, my original digital paintings were intended for my eyes only — a catharsis of sorts, giving expression to emotions that eluded adequate articulation by words. Since childhood, I felt it was unlikely that humankind could possibly be alone in a universe so vast it defied any meaningful comprehension. Science fiction was the only genre with sufficient savvy to eclipse fear of the unknown by pushing beyond rigid boundaries of conventional wisdom — a depository for adventurous ideas, providing a natural niche for imaginative reflection. Later along life’s winding path, someone whose very existence gives vibrant meaning to my own right here on Earth, suggested it would be a good thing to share my feelings. Publish, she advised, if only to show that anything worthwhile is worth the work.