Cynthia O’Brien

I have focused on the movement of water and what lingers after. I have a memory of growing up with (water) radiators hissing and banging, influencing my dreams at night. My mother would fill a bowl of water and leave it on the radiator. After a time it would be empty but for the crusty lines lapping the bowl. I imagined all the ways water moved filling the bowl, sloshing over the top, then settling and quietly evaporating. I would breath in this water and breath out my own.