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A conjuring, an invocation. 


To bring a vast landscape to a place where it trespasses and transcends. 

To drape a queer-dripping body over an unsuspecting architecture. 

To really see the body here and there, manifesting a communion of worlds. 


My mother asked me as we drove between volcanoes and fields of ripe sugar cane, “do you see yourself in all of this?” I said, “Yes. Of course, I do. I feel it in my blood.”

Will she recognize herself there?


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