This box is my means of vision and communication and a newfound, intrinsic piece of me. Others experience me through it – so why shouldn’t it be considered an extension of my being?

When I receive the same words, I take reprieve in the knowledge that someone, even if it’s not me, especially because it’s not me, knows that I will keep fighting. 

But I don’t fear what’s behind my door anymore; I don’t recognize the footsteps walking past it. The sound of my palace crumbling was once deafening; now it lingers quietly in the background. I look forward to silence, for once.

Both of us sitting, static, waiting to be cut open and consumed.

When I first saw the Abounaddara Shorts Exhibit at BAMPFA early in the first semester, it was a […]

i.  We patterned the sky with our spit, bellies down on the linoleum floor, to the rhythm of […]

It is winter break now and we are together, listening to nine people play nine different instruments in nine different rooms, all singing one song. 

A tall oak tree shifting in the sunlight of a distant memory.

Sickened smog trembles on the horizon, smelling of brimstone, same as always. They sip and wait, slowly, slowly sip and wait.

Just like the threatening weather, losing a customer was nothing in comparison to all else the people of Derry had lost.

The war will turn course and spring will persist
If through the cruel cold, we care for the trees.

She clutched the cross on her breast, praying to God that when she met her husband he would be kind and handsome.

I’m sorry for wanting,
that all I do is want
and want
and want.

I’ll listen and talk and learn between them, and maybe, just maybe, everything works out.