artist's statement

I must have thunder to illuminate my silence, to keep my secrets warm yet sleepless–like a murder of crows that stains the air with its shatter of flight, this forgotten sky that caps the sorrow of my footsteps which echo between each moment I remember the fingerprint left on my tongue.

I must crave danger because no one knows my true name: this is where the memory is, the most delicious form of fire that cannot be contained or controlled. Ruling me because I run from it too swiftly to escape its tired crawl that spreads lazily across every road that opens wide as I speak it.

I must face west and declare the magic that will transform me into what I've always been–no longer silent–a tongue loose and loud with chaos, shaken from the sleep of restless wings waiting for the snails to arrive, admitting everything because there are too many birds to ever dim this twilight.

all text and photos by Chloë Simon