AND I DREAMED YOU DREAMED ABOUT ME

A response to Emma Bingham’s Continuum[1]

Veils filter translucence, shifting with the arc of a day’s light

Shell-echoing crumples suggest the shapes of bone, secret worlds within a body

Hanging skins. Close, in a pattern, a rhythm, a composition in delicate paper fibres. Read this as a song: sung low and silent near water

Here are images of the end and start of life, caught and shared in their long delicacy –

Bright, fragile, strong and flimsy