This otherworldly soundscape draws me into an empty, wind-blown plain of a place where silent, chthonic creatures live. I move like a creeping vine, leaving a glistening trail, naked in my periwinkle cave. Me the shadow, spreading across a periwinkle wall. The desire for light haunts me and I loathe the way it penetrates. This is footage from the womb.

I put out my tentacles and feel along the seam where edges meet. I grow and reach into places of dreaming; from the left the looming shadow of a bed leans. I emerge from below, hands in my mat of hair and then ebb like a tide. 

Jupiter is the largest planet in our solar system, orbited by 16 moons. Astrologically, it is said to govern systems of law, codes, philosophy and stories; how meaning is made. It represents a craving to expand beyond the familiar, to cast a net in foreign seas, to gather, sort and feed the village with the catch. I am Juno. I trace the edges of the maps and then move outside of the penciled lines, courting Jupiter; the grand expanse I long for.