Treasure calls out from the most unlikely hiding places, “Ko ko, is anyone home?” Here I am, sitting in the seeds of the pomegranate, new born beginnings covered in sweet blood. Here I am, shouting out from the veins of a butterfly’s wing, carrying life like sap beyond our sight and hearing. Here I am, in the cracked voice of a grubby stranger, trying to pour out their life story at a frozen bus stop, having chosen you as the recipient. Who are we to deny these glints of gold?
Art and text © Keren Dibbens-Wyatt 2018