The Hanna Lens
‘I am no bird even though
globe trotting, I soar in my multi—window w h i t e loft in Manhattan;
I feel Zen along the sand waves in my garden of marble sculptures;
criss-crossed by creating fissures in my work, along my Tao!
My way cuts across five continents; I speak five languages yet have
no common tongue with most inhabitants of this world.
Is it my fault that fissures made continents drift apart creating
a Tower of Babel amongst people?’