The blue book arrived tied with frayed white ribbon, like a gift. You have to unwrap it, or ease the tied ribbon off the glossy cover. The only capital letters in the book are on the flyleaf where it begins “I am a painter who writes…” and later “I have worked full time as an artist since 1999..” and ” Quite patient, hold my tongue” and finally “It is not all you see on the surface…” The books title is ‘.pinned.” as if the full stop operates as a device to pin out the word like stitches.
Opening the pages there are words on one side and a photograph on the other. All the photos are slightly fuzzy and of parts of things. In the words she speaks of “stitches” being like crosses or kisses. It is a wonderful way of speaking of passion and hurt.
Both photos and words live…
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