When I see her, she is a wild, unruly mess of skirts and scarves, hair and laughter, gesture and motion — with facial expressions so alive and fiery they could awaken the drowsiest of dragons. She is neither young nor old, though everyone tries to label her, judging her actions unsuitable regardless of what age they choose. Her words have a frenzy of meaning when they are spoken calmly, and a serenity of meaning when they are spoken fast. They are the kinds of words that sink mountains one letter at a time, free caged birds, bring flowers into full bloom, and are either celebrated or cursed depending on the state of the listener. Her feet are always dancing, her hips always swaying, her eyes always flashing. She has a weedy tenacity that grows in heat, cold, drought or swamp, and doubles in strength when no one is looking. She refuses cultivation (except when it happens to feel right), and only goes with the flow when it’s going the same way she is. She wonders loudly about the complacency of the world, dragging its feet through another pre-rehearsed day — and wants more than anything to shake things up, to expose the joy and wildness she suspects are there.
— heidi kalyani, 2018
from the *nothing is black and white* project: illustration created out of meditation with a single unbroken line
