Direct address. What we see. When there's something to say.
She built the thing: the grid, the audience, the years of presence. Then she stopped. No announcement. Her phone went in a drawer. The people who mattered reached her through older methods. She doesn't miss it. I'm still in the room, still feeding the machine, and I'm not sure I want to know why.
She is not uncertain. She knows exactly who she is. She built it herself. And she is no longer available for the suggestion that it isn't enough.
The inaugural letter from Modern Monclaire — an institution for the woman who has already built her life and is looking for a voice that meets her there.
