Reds and oranges are beginning to spread through Coon's canyon in the Oquirrh Mountains. The earth, in its Autumnal Equinox, dances with the sun, and around my house bright September light shines through trees that seem at rest. I breathe cooler air and lay hung over from a night of coughing and phantom nerve pain in my neck and shoulder. I stare at a plate of potato hash covered in ketchup, take a sip of orange juice, and my head nags me for caffeine and dark chocolate. Ideas for a new chapter begin to form, and as they do, I turn to Francesca Woodman and Joyce Tenneson for inspiration.