prose

Before I recognized my own body in mirrors and photographs, summer was all rolly pollies and magic mud potions.

Dec 3, 2024 •

I Can’t Talk I’m Crawling Inside a Fig and Dying Like a Wasp OK

In the valley of commodity, we all wake from rolling dreams of supple tangibility with our jaws clenched and our temples and backs sore like Jesus from…

Aug 8, 2024 •

sophia

#nojs-banner { position: fixed; bottom: 0; left: 0; padding: 16px 16px 16px 32px; width: 100%; box-sizing: border-box; background: red; color: white; font-family: -apple-system, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif, "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol"; font-size: 13px; line-height: 13px; } #nojs-banner a { color: inherit; text-decoration: underline; } This site requires JavaScript to run correctly. Please turn on JavaScript or unblock scripts