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My wife and I were sitting in a coffee shop in Rockland Maine while the morning light crept into the shadows of the Downing Walsh gallery next door. The statue, imbued with the warmth of a living light, called to me. I had no understanding of the message it would bring. Now I see in the finished work, a spirit incarnate. Formed of the dust of the earth, encapsulated by it, as though constrained to a view of life and surrounds behind a prison of glass and bars. I understand now. I am seeing this spirit through a window of my own.