Was it the thigh-high boots tossed to one side, the two glasses in the sink with two plates and endless serving bowls, platters, jugs and trays that so unsettled me?
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I wanted to photograph you, in every hot spring in Iceland. Catch water drops clinging, to the opening of your pores, as if your perfect flushed skin, were the very promise of life.
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I think you think I can save you which I probably can't, though it's nice to have power recognised as a life or death affair instead of being categorised by the car you drive…
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Those fine fingers that crafted, carved, loved & blew my soul into being could not open this heart enough to feel, breathe, be…
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