Abstract poem/comics and static GIFs for musicians.

There was a period about three years ago where I cried pretty often. I wasn't sad. In fact, I was my most happy. It was almost daily over podcasts, good stories, a full moon; my heart was open. I felt it all. Then I fell in love with Sam and hardly ever cried.

The history surrounding me was moving, a string of stories of restricted freedom and female agency told through clothes, household items, and artwork—including one painting attributed to the powerful Empress Dowager Cixi, who left a trace of her thumbprint in ink.

Reflections on diaspora, longing, and love through the lens of Do Ho Suh's The Perfect Home II.

I meant to communicate geographically and socially in real time the terror of lineal entanglement, in the fact of my body moving in relation to other bodies

It's a story that started without me, it started the day that they showed up in California in their suits and fitted blouses.