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Through Sorrow, the Cleansing Fire: A Photo Collage

Four thrashing selves in the light; six lines scrawled on a blackboard from a film set; one black hand on the wall of an abandoned warehouse. Juxtapositions that echo, draw the moment towards a renewed kind of consciousness;unsettled with recognition.
“Then a scalpel cut her open for all the world/to be a sea”
[Mary Jo Bang, Elegy]