In The She Wolf, Miss AL Simpson unveils a new mythology for a decentralized matriarchy. Barefoot and unyielding, the figure is not adorned but armored in ink woven by Miss AL Simpson—a fluid couture of prophecy and power. Her gaze is turned from the viewer, fixed on the future, as if already fluent in what’s to come.
Flanked by two colossal wolves—part sentinel, part ancestor—she stands as sovereign, not subject. Their fur is streaked with data and ash, their eyes alert, aware. These are not symbols; they are soul-bound extensions of the self, protectors of a new Rome reborn through feminine code.
Behind her, a faded fresco of another woman—perhaps her former self, perhaps all women erased by empire—flickers like memory on the edge of erasure. Around them, inked drones hover like relics from the surveillance age, now defunct, outpowered by myth.
This is no portrait. The She Wolf is a declaration in flesh, ink, and machine. A beautiful artefact from the ROMA series—where past and future collapse, and the sovereign female reclaims the blockchain.
Roma was founded by wolves. This time, she leads them.
