Seeing the earth as I float far above her surface I'm drawn to the artful crack in the mask through which authentic feeling becomes palpable. Fissures of memories open, ooze then gather, rise to split. Not the time. They are swiftly pressed, together, now neatly, away, safely restored beneath the suture and clay.
Library Call Number: 345.60-9
Total Online Views: 141
Total Mobile Checkouts: 0
All uses of the Content are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike (“CC BY-NC-SA”) license (as fully described here). Please email us for permission before using any images.