juliet monireh

Juliet wants to remember. She paints her friends; her community; her childhood; blurry faces on the subway; lounging self portraits shrouded in quiet, sometimes burdensome solitude. She doesn’t remember so much. Her grandparents’ lives back in Iran and Yemen, the taste of fresh mountain-chicken, her mother’s childhood, fingers blackened by chestnut shells, her unlived life in a homeland she’s never met. So she also builds a magical, imagined world for herself and for her family, and for anyone who has lost what they never had. And she prays, and she remembers.