Sarah Wingfield
Bio
Interdisciplinary Artist located in the Austin area. Writing about anything and everything.
Stories (3/0)
Crest and Fall
The world and all its many forms, many forces, many formulas, and fires of all kinds began to blur—spinning through her vision, eyes blinded by the tumultuosity, vanity, frivolity, and incessant, vigorous agony of existing in this system. All at once she was overwhelmed by the pressing need to flee and simultaneous ache to save humanity from its own hypocrisies—to be that heroine of heroes.
By Sarah Wingfield6 years ago in Poets
Washing Away the City
I had just taken a breath after graduating college. The week after I took my last undergraduate exam, we ran away to New Mexico. I am an artist and my partner is an artist—the desert towns which serve as an oasis of artistic splendor and productivity drew us to the valleys and mountains. Just before the crack of dawn, we blinked away our sleep, packed up my parents’ car, snuggled our sweet pit bulls one more time before their puppy-sitter arrived, and hit the ground like the bulls of Spain. With the sun at our heels, we made it halfway across Texas before the clouds woke up.
By Sarah Wingfield6 years ago in Wander
The Music Box
This is a story about someone who is always there. She’s rarely late, rarely absent. We all know this girl; we all love this girl. There are others like her, but the others we don’t know. So we love this one. She’ll always allow us to rest our aches on her shoulders for a few hours, use her synapses to solve our conundrums. She’s always open to entertain our musings and let our woes spill out onto her kitchen floor. We always leave the mess upon her insistence, and without our knowing she’ll tend to the floor and catch each flying piece of our broken mirrors. She’ll never tell us that she places them in little tea tins and sets them all next to each other. And we each assume we’re unique in our confidings.
By Sarah Wingfield6 years ago in Poets