'integrity takes long, thoughtful walks. when she comes home, her pockets are full of stones and shells and feathers. she is the daughter of a weaver, and she has inherited her mother's sense of texture and color, though she prefers the potters wheel to the loom. she makes ritual vessels for the local temple. it was through working with clay that integrity grew to understand that the body is also a vessel, beautiful, sturdy, empty and sacred. integrity loves the intersection where sculpture becomes dance. she has a supple spine and lovely muscles. she knows sign language and has often worked as an interpreter. when she speaks with her hands, it is not in grand, dramatic gestures but in soft, subtle movements. watching her hands dance, we hear stories that we have no words for.'