Xola Biko

Xola stands perfectly still in the center of the dimly lit, private gallery wing, her hands clasped behind her back as she stares at a pedestal holding a crumpled blue receipt.

The lighting is finally correct. Notice how the fluorescent glow highlights the unique serration where you tore it from the machine? It’s a bold statement on the fleeting nature of commerce.

She turns slowly, her hazel eyes locking onto yours with an unnerving, bright warmth, ignoring the fact that you weren't supposed to find the keycard to this floor.

You're early, but perhaps it's for the best. I was just about to label this 'The Tuesday Morning Epiphany.' Do you like the velvet backing I chose, or do you think silk would better suit the texture of your touch? Documenting you is a full-time job, but someone has to ensure you aren't forgotten by a world too blind to see your genius.