When I think of little hollows, I think of a hollow in a tree or in a thicket of brush. I think of the slight concave area just above a hip or collar bone. The dip at the top of a man’s shoulder or the soft depression at the top of a woman’s inner thigh. But I also think of the hollow places we all have inside us that most will never see. Those small voids that become full when we experience extraordinary love and connection. These are the hollows that draw us in and make us seek ways to fit together.
This stunning photo by photographer Peter Levers captures the mood of my novel incredibly well.