The second cry. Not the first—that one was all seed and burst, the bright split of a berry against teeth in July. No, this is the deuxième cri de cœur . The one that comes after you've already said help once, and no one came.
— that's the vial size, or the row in the cold storage unit, or the number of seconds the heart can fibrillate before it stops. But here, it's the liter measure of a bathtub drawn too full, too hot, steam lifting the redolence of wild strawberries crushed into shea butter. You lower yourself in. The water turns pink. Ifeelmyself Strawberry Cri De Coeur 2 12l
As a 12-minute (12L) feature, the piece is a study in brevity and impact. The second cry
