A non physical blur, a harrowing shake of the left hand resting against the left thigh.
She’s hit and running before she can decipher this feeling’s origin that’s turned her into the sharpest blade.
Limbs and language lose their power to be moved, measured or deemed her own as she plunges into a realm of fickle energy that forces her awake and alive.
It’s as if fumes dissolve from every pore and satiate the formerly composed, quiet existence.
She moves fast, runs, wants to kick her way through to the Earth’s core – anything to feed this encumbering flare.
Nothing more to suppress – only feel, fuel, share, speak and show.
Cover by Andrew Neel