Residing here Print

A little look into our relationship with fabrics and interlinked memory, a touch of sensuality. Influenced by my own poetry; ‘Shroud’ sometimes when I think of how it felt, I wonder if that was really how it was supposed to feel. I’ve created a nest of lace, cotton, and things of which I wish to not name. in the case of thoughts and disdain. a mix contrasted between light and dark. cut fragments taken from time, whether they are a part of shadow, or of light. the memories suppress me, I’m wrapped like a cocoon, from outside to within. I reach out like a catalyst but slowly I sink back further. I wish to not feel as light as silk, the pressure of the air feels too heavy, it surrounds my chest, tearing its way into me, for a way to let me breathe. I long to feel the way it moved and draped across my face, the breeze of cool wind through my shroud, a moment of serenity. that the moment was as true. It stays as an ineffable mystery, I’m left with only my nest.