LENA FAYRE
These are my stories.
Moments, elusive and stagnant,
grown through sound, visuals, echolalia.
Music, the mirror – words of wound and remedy.

This is refraction.
Likenesses, images, distortion.
Generation Now, Generation New.
A child thumbing a flower as it pricks a hole.

Friction as past and future coalesce.
Nonsense was the word they used.
LENA FAYRE
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