ARIA'S POV
"Twelve to fifteen pieces," Clara Reyes said. "Not a collection. A conversation."
She was exactly what I'd expected from eight months of trying to get in front of her. Compact, precise, she gave the vibe of a woman who had been underestimated enough times that she'd stopped bothering to correct it and just let the work do the talking. She sat across from me in the gallery's back office with a folder she hadn't opened and her full attention on my face.
"I've seen what you've been making," she said. "The work from the last six months specifically. There's a connection in it. I want to know if you see it too."
"What connection do you see?" I asked.
"Fracture," she said simply. "Things that have been broken and kept going anyway. Not despite the breaking but because of it." She
