Ooh, we’ve got some lovely links for you all this week!

Start with an art exhibit expressing love for Heavenly Mother, and an interview exploring the art and heart that has gone into J. Kirk Richard’s life and artistic journey.

We have some practical, printable keys to unlock your child’s heart, and tips on why reality doesn’t help when dealing with a loved one’s dementia, and art from Korea showing home is simply where the heart is.

Some gorgeous art has escaped into the urban landscape in wonderfully surprising ways, and a company has shown it has community heart and spirit in not making anyone give up their urban farms (and has actually upgraded the facilities).

Defending the defence of the family is always timely (be sure to scroll past the links for the post), and this short video is a reminder that not saying the answer can be the best answer (also featuring luscious looking pineapple!)

From Asian food carts to the pixelated carts on the Oregon Trail, here’s a discussion on being a Generation X’er with the technological memories that go with it.  Technology is also opening up new frontiers, with a new crystal that may make breathing apparatus for health and recreation lighter, easier and longer lasting.

First draft poetry this week is teased from several of these posts, no single one in particular. Please feel free (and encouraged!) to leave your own first draft poetry in the comments!

You can’t take it with you,

they say,

like they’re the fake smile at the airport

and your bags are too big.

What would they know?

This isn’t their flight.

It’s for people leaving slowly,

with plenty of time to choose a seat,

say farewells,

kiss and kick the cheeks

that need it

(hopefully).

While some are surprised

to find themselves aboard

startled, gasping

and missing goodbyes.

Don’t tell me what I can take with me.

I may not be able to choose

my departure gate

or hour of boarding call,

but I guarantee

I will take the smell of gum trees and rain

tucked into my bra,

the deliberate kindness of strangers

tied around my wrist,

the blunt love of friends

calling me on my, ah, rubbish

(my swearing folded small and no doubt shoved in a pocket)

And my boys,

foggy mornings,

first kisses and

a blanket of prayers –

Life’s art painted

on my bones.