When I was twenty-four, my body started to eat itself alive.

They lounged along the beach, hundreds, as far as I could see. Their skin glistened under a bright, overcast sky, their bellies stretched out and exposed.

The worst date I have ever been on was with a man named Riley.

A community, united. One that grows. One that nurtures. That’s what I saw when I stepped into Bianca Tainsh’s Terra Culture.

Tucked away in the heart of West End, artist Bianca Tainsh’s exhibit Terra Culture is a thriving haven containing entire worlds.

It started with a man, once bulbous, now skeletal, as he slaved over molten silver day in and day out, creating drachmae for his ruthless, handsome Master.