Noon: I emerge – my bed is an archaeological dig. I am one of those Venus relics: womb, stuffed with maternity books, boobs, bling-ed with suckling babies. Doesn't matter that my face needs a filter or my lips need syringes of filler or my legs need a wax or a razor. I don't care when I say, 'I'm fat.' and you say, 'But, oh, you are pretty.' I don't care. Fuck your beauty ideals. Sarah Drury, 2025 Self-portrait with heated rollers by Sarah Drury, oils on canvas
the starry-eyed mermaid 