Every night as a child, Hannah’s Oma had tucked her into bed with tales of changelings that switched with children if parents weren’t vigilant. Hannah still knew the rules to find a Wechselbalg: they can’t touch iron, can’t eat eggshells,… Continue Reading
Now for the eyes. They are last and most important. I make portraits, not from life but from my mind, remembrances, faces seen in passing which I bring to the canvas with paint. Once I add the eyes the image… Continue Reading
“I saw you,” Terry shouted, “your left eye was open!” The baby-sitter shrugged. So what if he had? It didn’t change anything, leastways, not for her. “Do you want to play, or not?” “You cheated,” Terry continued, “it’s not fair.”… Continue Reading