not in perfect circles, but a series of s-shaped curves

How best to reproduce daylight within a semi-porous, organic system.

A question of sustenance emerges out of air: to strive, break towards. A concupiscence characterized by watery overflows, another version of rapture set against a bent willow frond, reading nook, cloud-cover of eyelashes you cannot make out through a high-def screen.

The sun’s strophe = a stronger self-portrait set sail in a translation quickened from fingertip to breath.

Sun blinded-ness. To tremble in the semaphore that is this effort of communicating. Of angles without hips. A jointed venture.

The impossible how you go again and relapses.

I made this without thinking of you.

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