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Lost in an erie stretch of no man's land, fragments of hidden even broken memories enjoy the process of blurring the lines between wakful dreaming and disturbed, pitter, patter, uneasy, and breathy sleep. Upon the viewer's first inspection of "Missing", hearts go wild to the rythmn of uneasy questions and deep rooted sensations of watchful eyes looking in on...murky enigma.
A deep, implanted green appears to lume over the background sucking in the secure and signaling safety from whatever it might be that escapes when all protection fails. There is a sense of safety, yes, only for a byte. "He," surrounded, covered, encircle, and confined limb to body, mind to matter, in thoughts of vermilion rubicund don't trust your instincts, they'll leave you praying for insomnia. [Kristen Delaney] |
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