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Nadia lives in the corners, where she weaves cobwebs by smashing mirrors into an analog dream.

First, everything is transparent, a curtain behind the curtain. Then comes the opacity. There is a hole in the word and an eye looking back inside it. Translucent entities emerge from the corners. A mantra of book titles praises the certainty of wood. The agency of light is reversed through the floor bouncing off the ceiling, dry water, and the peeling of flashlights drawn on the bark of the trees. Those flashlights are pendulums oscillating between the cold of the glass and the warmth of the flesh. Magenta and yellow sleep together but split their reveries. How many touches lie numb in the tangle of guitar strings, rings that are prisms of the black and white rainbow?

“Light never gets old”, we hear as the only answer.

Enrique Enriquez: Author / Poet / Esoteric Historia

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In the beginning Coën reaches for word: exhaling letters, arranging/re-arranging/permutating/ according to her intentionality to provoke fire, arouse fluidity, bestow air . . .

Constant movement of placing/dis/placement disempowers old stale ways of hiding, asking for courage to allow the hidden light, the light of beginning, to illuminate a walkabout on her ground of shattered mirrors.

And in the ways of her ancestors she gathers the broken shards of light, waters the mystical upside-down tree to sing an alchemical song with inanimate guitar strings still resonating the song of wilderness, the dance of spirit and matter.

Coën’s poetics yearn towards justice, her call is the timeless desire of artist-as-partner in conjuring the inner essence of the many-colored-robes of outward appearance.

Tabita Shalem ­— Poet