Dripping in the color, she was sci-fi sanctified, alien and clean.
After our first week, I begin to lose things during the walks along the creek.
This explanation of my relationship with racial memory and inherited trauma, I think, started coming in.
The ship features a recreation of a slave ship's hold. The cruise prides itself on it. It is not a good recreation, if the metric is realism.
The difficult thing with illustrating is trying to find an image that complements the piece without giving it away.
This character, she treats dating and writing very similarly.
Promise me you won’t write a poem about me.
I did feel like I was sort of peering into their brain and trying to pluck out what they thought was the most important part.
I think in the literature that I've read, sight as a bit of a metaphor for knowledge, for awareness, and for identity, is pretty well suffused and embedded into this collective recognition.
I am Iris, I thought. Iris is me, and Iris is in the wrong lane.