I'm working on an art project. I guess it's also a kind of conceptual writing. In a spiral-bound notebook, I write the word "grief" over and over. This one word covers the pages. I usually listen to music when I work on the project. Repetitive tasks are therapeutic for me and allow my brain to rest and regenerate. I desire to peel back language. I wanted to strip my life down to one word. I wanted to become intimate with the word. My hand forms each curve of every letter. I live this word. I am tormented by this word. It's a word I think about, the only word that comes close to describing what I feel about his death. My grief is enormous. The word itself is so small, only five letters, and yet it represents a deep, relentless emotion. When I can find no other words, I will always have this word.