One of my Norwegian cousins was an artist. I remember as a small child going to his studio and being mesmerized by his inventions. A playground of shapes and ideas in form, half formed, "She dreams in colors she dreams in red." The thing without a name has always fascinated me. Perhaps the impermanance of an Army brat's life led me to this need to leave something behind (or ahead) to remind me of place. A Translation of Place. So I invent abstractions. Here are some brief explanations of the things I have placed in my world recently.