“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.” — Arundhati Roy. These are quiet breaths...

The love of found things: text abandoned, weathered tea and stains, remnants dug from the mundane; these align through rhythm and meditative chiseling, a simultaneous falling away and building, passioning distant narratives through the object body, through breath and breath and breath again — a sacred ritual, "a most quiet need by sun and candle-light" (Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet 43).