"This work is unlike any other, in its range of rich, conjuring imagery and its dexterity, its smart voice. Carroll-Hackett doesn’t spare us—but doesn’t save us—she draws a blueprint of power and class with her unflinching pivot: matter-of-fact and tender." —Jan Beatty
A recurring dream returned last night, one where an old wolf, his amber eyes glowing, appears in my bedroom. He circles the room a few times, then climbs up on the end of my bed, curls up and goes to sleep.
Woke this morning to the heartbreaking sound of chainsaws, taking down several large oaks at the little church across the street, trees that are easily hundreds of years old. The crash as they fell echoed all around us.
Make art about what’s lost when we lose a tree, about what’s lost in those branches, or about the spirit of trees.
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