A float, an iamb, an obscurity, a worship, a curse, an illusion, an expectation, a misbelieving, a bevy of women hover and blend at the top of the frame. Like me, they live in Thaira’s palette, in vertical swaths of cerulean, viridian, dulled sulfur, and the ruddie ochre of brick that built the Malwiyaminaret. They are like cousins. They are like mothers and daughters of Nineveh, mothers and daughters of the Blues, watching out with all their kohl eyes, hair like poetry in rising motion like flame. They’re like “Her Story Is” on the Arabian Sea at twilight in December, without seat belts at full speed to the souk—yes,

中文翻译：

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“这幅画有故事”和“我们将改变游戏规则”

一个漂浮物，一个iamb，一个默默无闻，一个崇拜，一个诅咒，一个幻觉，一个期望，一个误会，一群女人盘旋在画面的顶部并融合在一起。像我一样，他们住在泰拉的调色板中，在垂直的蔚蓝、绿色、暗淡的硫磺和建造 Malwiyaminaret 的红赭石砖中。他们就像表兄弟一样。他们就像尼尼微的母女，布鲁斯的母女，用他们所有的眼睛注视着，头发像诗歌一样升腾，像火焰一样。他们就像 12 月黄昏时分在阿拉伯海的“她的故事”，没有安全带全速前往露天市场——是的，