The imagination of each moment is only the concern to reveal, with each fresh blow of the chisel, the one and only hidden statue.
“There is a black place inside me. It can be reached and perhaps it can consume. But it is not a hive. The black place inside me is mine. I found that it could be filled of architecture and light, water and ancestor, o, things that make me bow-to.”
Lisa Marie Basile | Nympholepsy