by the jagged icy mountains still solid in my mind as it materializes on the canvas. Stone spires, ice sheets, flowing snowflakes, darkened sky. I can feel the cold in my flesh from when I’d seen it, smell the crisp air, hear the soft howling of wind descending the peaks and blowing my buffalo hide cloak about my face. I attempt to capture this feeling as much as I can in the painting, wanting to evoke this memory in even someone who had never had it before.

This was more than a distraction for me. Recreating these was a way of owning it. All of my lives have always felt like something done to me. I was sent hurtling through all of time with nothing to grasp onto, subject to the blind whims of human history. As much as I’ve always wanted to find out what I am and why, I al...

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