On the fragmentation of memory, loss, and longing.
“We pass it back and forth, fingers hardly touching, both desperate for the smallest bit of warmth on this bitterly cold night . And with each drag, these minutes we share grow shorter, our lungs darker, and the sky below which we stand glows with laughter — and the last of the dying ember.”
2015. Hand-cut lettering from stencils on machine-made cover-weight paper, various decorative papers, waxed linen threat, book board. Case binding structure. 3¼” x 6¼” x ¾" (closed)
© Suzanne Glémot