Grace carved a bird, out of the movement between leaves. Wefted and warped, her soft to the selvage. Croft to the cloud. As her finger to beak


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Consider the “fascinating” "field" of “modeling”. Where “agents” “scout” “beauty”, and catalogue its “code” according to "call" "backs" and “measure” "meants". Where “editors” choose “looks” for “fashion” hooks. Where “photographers” “shoot” “stock” with “light” “speed” and “pose” “lock”. Where photos “take” flight in frame “flock”, like peacock "birds" in stunning *pop!* and “migrations”, to “magazines” and "blooms" on “screens”, with “patterns” to “eyes” that "bless" in the "bathe" and "serotone" in the “scenes”. Where women “wear” the “earth” with perennial “fluency”, and “speak” the “flesh” with spiritual “luminancy”. As though the "body" were a "dream" and “literal” "miracle". Which "it" "most" "certainly" “is”. And which is “what" "they" most "brilliantly" "do". "So", "save" "it", "get" "gone", "shut up". With "your" "critic's" "shtick". "Sex" "doesn't" "sell". "Beauty" "illustriously" "gives"