Poetry. "Like a post- conceptual Pompeii, Shiv Kotecha's EXTRIGUE archives the rubble of language as forensics. Freud's Little Hans meets Lynch's Mulholland Drive . EXTRIGUE works repetition and perception in order to collapse time. Through his numbered sequencing of the human stain, Kotecha pulls us into an endless '345. A FLAME THAT FADES INTO A PHONE A MAN THAT FADES INTO A MAN A LAMP THAT FADES INTO A BOOK SMOKE THAT FADES INTO A HAT.' EXTRIGUE, outside of self, is the canoptic jar of the now."—Kim Rosenfield