I think the most appropriate way to honor the work of Hedi Kyle is to infuse a single book with many of her artistic hallmarks a crown structure made of rescued book pages and vintage paper, wrapped in a minimal gesture of modest elephant hide paper, slowly revealing the hidden story of a blizzard. The text reads: On the globe in far southern latitudes, a wanderer migrates unknown distances, penetrating the weird white darkness veiled in light snow. It moves like an ignis fatuus through the winter waves of strong white draperies rustling curtains in the same curious form. The sound swells and fades like that of a silk dress of the Queen, somewhat evanescent, skirts that twist and zigzag in seemingly purposeless pattern. Then, her massive sinister wailing coming from nowhere with the milkiness of the fog on a white day, disintegrate in the sea and float through a woolly-white luster of heavy snowfall.