Francis Rosenfeld: VOICES

Jessica: Softness

Softness brushes the glass pane, steadily patting at the window with delicate plush soles, the kind that make intricate embroidery patterns on freshly fallen snow, but no sounds, no sounds at all, ever.

Amelia: Still Life

I’m standing in the middle of my garden,  small and special, like an ancient idol, hidden for centuries  by the luxuriant vegetation  which grew

Amelia: Grace

I could have died a thousand ways or not have lived at all. I could have sold my happiness for envy, rage, and gall. I could have drowned in grief and tears, and given up my soul. I could have followed on my fears to falter, fail and fall.

Episode

00:00:00 00:00:00