from loving the hair of erica's women

smooth and sinewy or stiff and brittle or delicate and light
I would like to feel their hair. I would like to take a sample and compare it to the others. I would like to collect them all so I can demonstrate that we bring together not for the similarities, but for the differences revealed in trying to be so. I’d arrange by texture, color, length and width into rows and columns, clusters, venn diagrams, until I could be sure. Until I could be sure of what background produced the very best hair in the world. Hair for good girl exists in a free flowing environment, in a gridded one, from a delicate literalness.
I would like to propose the protection and preservation of these special environments. Locations in which the rarity and uniqueness of each area’s history is unavoidable yet on the point of obstruction by the demanding structures placed upon it. I vacillate between hierarchies. I can find the ideal in no incarnation, no best environment to act out an ultimate conception. But I don't want to lose the options under layers, obscuring the disparity between the associations that make it impossible for me to stop arranging the cherished pieces.