the fight continues

12:30 pm. seven girls sit around the table, drawing. six of them, circa age 8. the seventh, circa age 16. the seventh asks: “what country are you from?”

– algeria.
– afghanistan.
– morocco.
– afghanistan.
… i don’t want to say.
– afghanistan.
– afghanistan.

why is it so, that a little girl has to feel like a minority, even amongst other minorities? why is it so, that a little girl has to keep her guard up, even amongst other children? why does she have to hear from her mother, or her father, or anyone else, that she needs to be protected? that she needs to protect herself? why does she has to feel so different, so off, so wrong – when she’s perfect?

society isn’t protecting these little girls, these little boys. it isn’t protecting these women, or these men. so we have to protect ourselves. and we have to protect each other.

the day before yesterday, i took a stand. i said no. that it’s not okay to make someone feel bad for the way they are different. that it isn’t okay to remind someone of the horrible way that they’ve, that we’ve, been treated. it’s not okay to say things of hate, even if you don’t mean it in a hateful way. i said no for me and i said no for us. and i am proud. i will stand tall and fight for all my sisters and brothers. i will fight for our mothers, our fathers; and, most of all, i will fight for our children.



i stood in front of the mirror, brushing my teeth, as the absence of light from the burnt out lightbulb veiled my face. i stared into my own eyes, seeing darkness and darkness only. and as i felt the weight of my own invisible stare, fear crept along the edges of my reflection. the abyss gazed back. who knew what i was when i was not to be seen? a freak. an untouchable freak. i stumbled back, a step one two three four, and scratched at the door, grappling to push it open. light streamed in, and black turned to grey. the lines reappeared, and the void was silhouetted once more. i could still feel its eyes on me. in my irises, on my neck. it lingers. still.


aether is the material that fills the region of the universe that stretches beyond the moon. aether is the explanation for gravity and the traveling of light. aether is one of the first entities to come into existence, the first element. aether permeates the entirety of universe, and exists even in the vacuum. aether is the pure essence that the gods breathe, the air of divinity. aether is the son of erebus, of darkness, and nyx, of the night. aether is the brother of hermera, of day. plato says that it is the purest of oxygens, aristotle says it is an element fifth. he says it moves in circles; and is neither wet nor dry; neither hot nor cold. he says that aether contains all celestial bodies, in crystallized spheres. robert fludd says that aether is subtler than light. 

i, i heard you say


see the road, long and lonesome road
dozens come from many miles away
see the lights, they go long for miles
but you will never see the light again in his smile
now you are gone, are they moving on?
don’t listen girl, listen what they say
got no soul, got no rock and roll
and you will never hold me in his arms again, i am so cold 

and i, i heard you say, i, i heard you say
almost took my breath away
no, he will never hold me in his arms again 
you will never hold me in his arms again
no, he will never hold me in his arms again, i’m so cold



i love fashion as a creative outlet. i love the idea of becoming a physical representation, a manifestation of your fantasy. what you want to portray, what you want to convey. you can set up an atmosphere around yourself, through a look. and you can change atmospheres whichever way you want, create so many personas. so many worlds, even through the simplest means. i just love the way that world and character building is merged with your physical self, and how both components feed off each other to create something more than the theoretical concept in mind. add a touch of humanness to aesthetics and you get something truly inspired. 

forrest gump

i just finished watching forrest gump for the first time, and i’ve been furiously wiping my cheeks for the last five minutes. they don’t make them like that anymore. i’m glad we’ll always have these movies, the ones like forrest gump. i’m glad people will be able to see them for the first time and furiously wipe their cheeks for many years to come.

negative space

p i g e o n s, by sergey neamoscou

just now, i found myself thinking about languages. more specifically, i was thinking about how the way i express things, and, indirectly, my general mode of speaking, and even my “personality”, varies depending on which language i am speaking. four different languages, four different egos. and i asked myself, which one is the real me?

i guess you could make arguments for each language-me, and eventually come to the conclusion that they’re all me, but i have to say that the split first place would go to swedish-me and english-me. why? because i have mastered these languages well, and at pretty much an equal level.  this might seem like the most obvious thing in the world, but think about it for a second. i feel most comfortable expressing myself in these language because i know them. i can fully* verbally exercise my acts toward self-actualization only through these two languages because they give me the biggest playground. as opposed to the spanish-me, for example, in whom i can’t even hear my own personality at times, due to my linguistic limitations. imagine if spanish-me was the only me i had. my view of myself would be so small, i’d be nearly no one.

now, you can expand this theory, look at other aspects in the world like, oh, say, everything ever. the more you know about something, the more you can move around in said something, and the more you can find yourself in said something. feel your way through the negative space. this applies to anything. to be able to find yourself truly being something, you have to understand and, to an extent, be everything that isn’t that something.

sometimes, experiencing the alternatives to that something you were set on going to at first leads you to not find your way back. sometimes, you learn that you weren’t that doctor, or buddhist, or heterosexual, or poet, or pessimist that you thought you were at the beginning. you’ll find out just how selfish you can be, how cold the world is sometimes, and how everything is really really hard. it’ll hurt. it’ll hurt a lot. but you’re closer to the truth.

the truth is what really matters. you have to try things, all the things, to know the whole you. paint the picture bigger and bigger and strive to get the whole thing, even though you’ll most certainly die before you get there**. the more you do it, the bigger your self will become. that’s why experienced people have that certain something. you can see the sureness glistening in their eyes, it’s solid. like a rock amidst a stormy ocean. they know themselves. a bit jaded, broken, but so beautifully real.


*well you know, relatively.
**who knows, the search might transcend mortality.


(… ein meinem herzen.)

i finally saw the grand budapest hotel yesterday (enjoyed it, needed more women, will do a visual study once the hd stills come out) and i figured it was just a matter of time so i might as well do this now. jason schwartzman is one of my favorite people. i don’t know why. why him out of all people? i mean, i don’t think he’s the most attractive man, but i really love the way he looks. i don’t think he’s the most amazing actor, but i love him in every movie. i don’t think he’s the most incredible musician, but i could listen to his albums all day. i just kind of really like him. it’s just a thing. jason schwartzman is one of my favorite people, and this is me saying “hey man, i think you’re really great”.

 i mean, he’s a total stud in that weird sort of way, if that’s what you’re into. ( i am.)


my head is filled,
eyes hazed
it burns my throat,
it’s all that i can smell
licks its way across my ribs,
slithers down my sides
it crawls, glides,
drags, pushes itself to my planes
nerves ignited,
i twitch, i writhe
everything it touches,
is blackened,
i am left


eleanor & park

“I don’t like you, Park,” she said, sounding for a second like she actually meant it.
“I…” – her voice nearly disappeared – “think I live for you.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his head back into his pillow.
“I don’t think I even breathe when we’re not together,” she whispered. “Which means, when I see you on Monday morning, it’s been like sixty hours since I’ve taken a breath. That’s probably why I’m so crabby, and why I snap at you. All I do when we’re apart is think about you, and all I do when we’re together is panic. Because every second feels so important. And because I’m so out of control, I can’t help myself. I’m not even mine anymore, I’m yours, and what if you decide that you don’t want me? How could you want me like I want you?”
He was quiet. He wanted everything she’d just said to be the last thing he heard. He wanted to fall asleep with ‘I want you’ in his ears. 


Nothing was dirty. With Park.
Nothing could be shameful.
Because Park was the sun, and that was the only way Eleanor could think to explain it. 



“Damn, damn, damn,” she said. “I never said why I like you, and now I have to go.”
“That’s okay,” he said.
“It’s because you’re kind,” she said. “And because you get all my jokes…”
“Okay.” He laughed.
“And you’re smarter than I am.”
“I am not.”
“And you look like a protagonist.” She was talking as fast as she could think. “You look like the person who wins in the end. You’re so pretty, and so good. You have magic eyes,” she whispered. “And you make me feel like a cannibal.”
“You’re crazy.”
“I have to go.” She leaned over so the receiver was close to the base.
“Eleanor – wait,” Park said. She could hear her dad in the kitchen and her heartbeat everywhere.
“Eleanor – wait – I love you.” 


He wound the scarf around his fingers until her hand was hanging in the space between them.

Then he slid the silk and his fingers into her open palm.

And Eleanor disintegrated. 

cinco seis

Tanigami Konan Lilies 1917

i. fourteen days ago, i went and had a vein tapped. a blood donation. three days ago, i received a text message from the hospital thanking me. telling me that the blood i gave was given to a patient. tears fell down my cheeks. ever since those fourteen days ago, i’ve felt this warmth inside. as if the blood was replaced with light.

ii. a woman flirted with me today. i was flustered. a person flirted with me today. i was flustered.

iii. we sat outside, preparing for our visit at the kindergarten. i closed my eyes and faced the sun, turning like a leaf, yearning for the rays. it was a regular day at school, expected to be mundane. it was bliss.

iv. down on the west coast, they got a saying.

v. i’ve applied for courses. plural. three. black holes & cosmic explosions, astronomy, creative writing. i keep my eggs in baskets. plural. x.

vi. continuará.

in the pale moonlight

her, hips swiveling back and forth without a thought. him, three fingers on a straw swirling the ice around and around. her, red lips, hair thrown over bare shoulders. him, polished boots, bangs pushed back. her, lips quirked into a small smile and nose crinkled. him, slow blinks and eyes widened. a twinkle. a spark.



when you feel your life going stagnant, move. hunt the change. when you can see things clearly, feet on solid plane, start running. blur the lines. never let safety graze your back, avoid its dulling touch. when you find yourself feeling that something is missing, find it. when you think to yourself, i don’t know what i’m looking for, find anyways. see conquer devour until the void is filled. make sure there is always something new amidst all the old that colors your judgement, clouds your vision. let yourself become enraptured. embrace that things are fleeting, use them until they shrivel in your arms. don’t worry, they’ll never be gone, not even eons after you’ve thrown them away. disposable permanence. be greedy, abuse your freedom, take all you can and be selfish, because the world is selfish too. everything you take, the world takes from you. so get to know each other. exchange. exchange. exchange. meet the universe, swallow it and let it become you.


(play and then read, yeah?)

i want to be as unapologetically me as possible. i want to be the me that i am in my head. i just want to say what i think without that tremble in my voice, without that flicker. i want to wear a leather jacket and have dyed hair and not say sorry a single time in the whole goddamned day. i want to look at a guy without thinking that he’d never be interested in me anyways. i want to wear clothes that cling without worrying about which rolls are showing where. i want to make that one mistake that’d be awful but such a good story in the end. i want to ask what the fuck are you looking at and have the evening end with me having punched someone in the throat. i want to make out with strangers and get tattoos just because i feel like it in that particular moment. i want to flirt in languages i don’t speak. i want to walk in that certain way without thinking about it, saunter. i want to do things that make me question who i am, shake my foundation. i want to scream, and laugh into the dead of night. i want people to hate me, and i want people to love me. i want to knock them down.  i want to blow them away. i have a cyclone within me, but i want to be in the eye.

watch me unravel

life is a little bit harder, but so are you. you walk with your arms stretched out, and your eyes are boiled sweets, crystalline and dense. the word “can” repeats again and again, wrapping around your brain. nothing makes sense except for you, so you make sure to touch as many things as possible. disturb. unpick. and with the threads in your hand, you walk away.

… i’ve come undone