As I documented the walls of the home through my camera, I began questioning their construction and composition.
FICTION
Where the Blue Rests
Blue in action was a matter of life or death, and you avoided it at all costs, not jump into it like Chikara unless you wanted to die.
WIT TEA
Flirting In The New Age
I have enemies now
ENUMERATE
Tía-shaped
when the gods tire of their stars, they will create / a new galaxy of tía-shaped constellations
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Q&A with Bruna Dantas Lobato, author of Blue Light Hours
"Translation, much like writing, is a relational art."
evolution of a divorce
that we learn desire through language and I want to say / his words woke up me up like a mother / with a whisper
My Hair Is an Archive of My Grief
But it’s ridiculous to keep holding on to the past, holding on to hair that no longer wants to be kept.
