Childhood
Seven days after my seventeenth birthday, April 11th of this very year, my childhood came to an end. At the time I would’ve have perhaps have said something as dramatic as “my childhood died”. But...
View ArticleNEVER BREAK THE CHAIN
In class we read “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden. “Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun” reads the boy directly across from me. Then he looks up and asks, almost angrily, as though haven bitten into a...
View ArticleProtected: Bipolar Part 5 Of ∞
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View ArticlePLEASE TEACH ME TO BE STRONG
I am slitting city guides with a kitchen knife. I am cutting out pictures of my hometown, Valencia (Latin valentia, meaning strength, courage). The photographs of my selection depict a reality of...
View ArticleQue Todo Lo Invade
We have spent fourteen days in the new apartment. During the evenings, my mother stands at the kitchen counter and cuts packing tape with safety scissors. She empties boxes and begins cataloging her...
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