Rebecca Sexton Larson assembles darkly-romantic fantasy landscapes which echo familiar idioms, metaphors, and colloquialisms, teasing out levels of meaning that surprise, delight, and often provoke a chill. Her technical mastery of light and seamless compositions make her narratives ring true though they are very clearly quite impossible.

Hers are Images of loneliness and isolation. A glass house in a dark woods blazes with sourceless light. An empty apartment slowly floods with countless grey sunflowers. A couple of cardboard clouds hang in a deserted theatre. Her voice is quiet but compelling. Her touch is deft but distant. Her stories promise the moon.