by Nina Gaby

Somewhere in the barn I still have the coil-built turquoise vase I made in high school, junior year. By junior year I was already drunk on pilfered vodka or high on cough syrup by homeroom, plotting and planning my escape, creating mayhem in the house so I could get mad and run away. Continue reading “Certain Imperfection: Revisiting Zetsu No. 8” →