Curations

Even when she walks

"I love you, yet hate you!" Your countenance, your gestures, your radiance—like lightning and flint sparks—are a red balloon that drifts farther the more it is called, a mottled soul writhing in electric illusion, a silhouette branded into white snow, an evil flower blooming from rotting flesh, beautiful as a painted landscape. I have decided to pursue you through light and shadow, to discover what made you make that decision.