A Broken Tower
I turn toward the sun and close my eyes. Yellow falls until red. Is this experience universal? Of light passing through tenuous skin. Cracked open, I witness a political reality that is not shared. Why is seeing so difficult?
By the way, I like what you did there. How did you learn to dance and glide through these spaces so well? The ones that welcome you but do not support.
As you are still young I will tell you, but can I inscribe it without metaphors? Or must I use a screen, a shield, or a cover? To dodge and burn, to cast and meld, these are the tactics of the deft and light.
Press release (excerpt), Iris Williamson: