Randi Willett

Reality estranges as an encumbrance, a cage that traps with its clipped wings, layered veils, and stiff blankets. This hold subsists as an immovable vessel potted but never earthbound—mounted in a strained compartment, like jars with tight lids, lacking: in air, in breath, in imaginary attributes. Finally, with a last breath, an emergence blooms upon that which contextualizes momentary “reality” or rather that which defines a metaphorical escape from… actuality.

My singular endeavor is to escape. My momentary escape is found in the illusory. My illusion is a perception of reality and with this perception, I find my singular endeavor... escape.