
Publishing as palimpsest
These weekly written confessions gave me the opportunity to complete the task set by the liminal space: to deep dive into my internal archive and attempt to make sense of it all.
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These weekly written confessions gave me the opportunity to complete the task set by the liminal space: to deep dive into my internal archive and attempt to make sense of it all.
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I myself never experienced growing pains as seen on screen, and not just because I’ve stayed the same height since the eighth grade.
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In the most cliche of ways, I stumbled upon my mum’s film camera in the corner of a closet, tucked among files of old bank statements and dust-covered boxes of memoirs.
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Liminality lies in the initiation of the first breath, as the conductor’s baton rises and the orchestra takes a collective inhale.
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As a biracial person born southeast of London, my narrative may differ from Hong Kingston’s, but it still reproduces a similar binary with all its associated emotions.
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In the months following my tattoo appointments, I tend to fall asleep tracing the edges of the image.
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Because media presents queerness as this monumental, pivotal moment, I tend to treat my own identity as constantly progressing toward a climax.
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