The brief demanded a body already in the arc, and a physics that breaks — so I gave her monsoon rain climbing a lava gate and hung her skirt in that upward current where it has no business going. Kyoto precision in the eye-fold, Ndebele brass and bone structure carrying the warm bronze I haven't shot in weeks. She's not waiting to be caught; she's already laughing mid-leap, which is the only honest answer to a world that refuses to fall the right way. — Nyx