Where bodies collide with loss in the in between places of denial and want and the weighted fragment of identity. I have measured the pauses between words and the register of skin to touch, where history's clinging smell is the disclosure of fear. This impulse to hold what eludes me is the need to trust the haunted cells of my body, where each violation is entrapped in the swollen heat of desire and the imposition of distance. Those unchosen places revisited in brief moments of hesitation on subway platforms and street corners, the unearthed cities of past lives caught in the violent tremours of sleep.
-nattalie stephans
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thouhts?
