By Kara Walker

[vc_row][vc_column][title type="subtitle-h6"]Rebecca Rieder[/title][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column width="11/12"][vc_column_text]blacked ink, icrumbled in piecesleaving only the tracedshape of my handsto remember me by,shroudedso that i was not shadowsbut silhouettes,and, like a blank canvas,my palms unfolding,there was not a thing to graspoutside myself,my pieces not shapedlike themselveshands not tracedlike our self.[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]