"Lying still in a corner of the cave, I try my best not to rattle, not to betray my fear. I figure, as long as they think me unconscious, I am safe. I have jolted awake because of the voices, only to discover they are incoherent and muffled. In between the gusts of wind, I can hear them hissing. Each phrase plays out in some verbose foreign music, which I cannot decipher for the life of me. Sigh. This is not Aramaic for sure, or any of the other languages spoken by the locals in my village or by the merchants traveling through along the Jordan river.
At this moment I find myself overwhelmed, turned inside out by a sense of suspicion. Something has been taken away from me. My breath? My name? Identity? Who am I, then?"
Job's wife in Twisted
I am truly enamored with paper. I love folding it, rolling it, cutting it, spilling ink and paint on it, and studying the reflections it gives off. At times it stares back at me, especially when I can find no words to write on its pure, white surface. Here is my oil painting of a rolling paper band, set against a background of a cave with stalagmites. It was inspired by my quick charcoal sketch of a nude.
You will notice that this is no simple transformation, as the paper band goes deep into the internals of the body, which is no longer solid. Also, I staged the figure in an environment where light drizzles from above in glowing colors, and shadows of the paper band are cast all the way down, nearly reaching you.
Dark, intense, entertaining, thought-provoking and emotional, these short stories each hold their own brand of magnetisim that lasts long after the last word is read... A wealth of depth in few words. -Dii, Top 1000 Reviewer
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