If you’re anything at all like me, you might view the concept of family as one, big, nebulous, complicated substance of nonsense and multifaceted anxieties. Hearing through the grapevine
“Can we talk about the word?” Emilia says. Zahra sits, writing in her brown, leather-covered notebook in Central Park at a round, white, steel table. Her yellow dress dances
The Sun and Moon were of the same Heavenly flesh. Cut from each other, weathered lovers sewn together, but ripped apart by the Red Sky’s envy. They walked hot
I’m trying to sift between something tangible and something imperceptible something like that slightly wet and malleable sand that’s best for making sandcastles blue Play-Doh rubber cement cream sauce
