The Serpent

She learned to shed things.

Two hammered gold-plated curves turning back on themselves, hung from a small textured disc. Open work throughout, so the shape reads as line rather than mass.

Snakes are read as treacherous almost everywhere, which is a mistranslation of something much plainer: they grow by leaving. A snake outgrows a skin it can no longer live in, and the shedding is uncomfortable, and it goes briefly blind while it happens. Then it is bigger.

This is the piece for the stage where she stops apologizing for what she has put down. The friendships that didn't survive the change. The version of herself other people preferred.

Long enough to move against the jaw, and light enough to forget about.

What it is

• Hammered curves turning back on themselves
• Small textured disc at the ear
• Open work — reads as line, not mass
• Sold as a pair

Specification

• Metal — Solid brass, gold plated
• Stones — None — these are entirely metal
• Care — Not waterproof. Last on, first off. Brass darkens over time; a soft cloth brings it back.

Care

Last on, first off.