al …
The Mouth of Krishna
Japan, 2018, #785, Pigments, gampi paper and gold leaf.
So there I was, frolicking about the open pasture when a breeze blew my bonnet clean off! Setting my boundless hair afloat in the crisp autumn air. Would not have been nearly as shameful was I not standing before Thomas McCoy, the locksmith’s son! A cursed day indeed.
“Now I am surely becoming an incurable romantic.”
— Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals; p. 51
beberequin 