Self-portrait because I once saw a door and knew not to open. Because behind every door is a mouth, and the tongue, a road.
WIT TEA
The Instagram Mothers
the places they’ve seen!—both virtually and IRL
BACK OF THE ENVELOPE
Galápagos: Environmental Impact Assessment
the smell of burning carpet like when a place someone lives is burning, photographs filling with black water before curling at the edges like hats.
FICTION
From the Archives: Xiaogui / 小鬼
This is a different kind of dark than the one beneath a bedcover, more like the one inside a fist, a dark where we can’t see our own arms and can pretend for a while that we haven’t yet been booted from our mothers by that god who gets paid to kick girls out of the womb...
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From the Archives: House of Mirrors: Jordan Peele’s Us Reflects My Split Selves
As I drift to sleep, I wonder who the real me is and who’s the imposter.
12 Cartoons
The Wolfbane bloomed, the autumn moon was bright, and still Dave felt out of place at the furry convention.
