Haiga Archive

She went under at the age of fifteen, bootstrapped into
shadows and omission. Like fledgling revolution, she was
all elbows and ankles and steel, cutting her teeth on clumsy
hits, dealing in lies and speculation. Hers was a radical
sensibility, always metal, cold in her hands, the slow click, bolt
through the shaft of her imagination. Now she’s high
scandal, trafficking caution and cash, a portrait of long
thighs and wrists. There’s no way out when you’re in
demand, there is only down, down and onward.