In what language do you sing my name of utter destruction and beautiful chaos?

Images like a spark shower agitate my mind. A fountain of mirrors broken by falling chains show an owl, a raven, a panther, and then are gone out of sight, dim the light.

Who and where and what emotion are you? What is the value of 1 billion photographs today, more tomorrow? Homo Faber, Man the Builder, becomes Photo Faber, the fabricated photograph.

Noble natural light, painful to my eyes, sees a travertine fire through a hall of glass, images fall against a cold dry wall.

Each image includes 30 to 100 different photographs of different models of different ethnicity, gender, and environment. Completely realistic fictitious embodiments occupy no defined space over multiple points in time, projecting aura, mystery, spirituality, Jaya Jagadambe: She Who Tears Apart Thought.

A distraught angel walks through destroyed cities, between yellow light and purple dark we see her wings torn from environmental chaos. Perhaps you recognize her; you are deceived, she is fictitious, but even she has stories to tell.

Beautiful stranger, your name is not in my song of beautiful chaos, but from my heart I sing the language of love.