What Was Left of Her
What begins as admiration becomes a slow, careful editing of her body and self, each loss explained as refinement. The most dangerous part is how often it feels like love while it’s happening.
The Anatomy of My Exit Wounds
A relationship unravels not in a single moment, but across the body, each part remembering the truth at a different pace. What remains is not a clean ending, but a quiet reconstruction of self, built from everything that refused to stay broken.
Neon Devotion
In the shimmering half-light of Echo Park, love becomes ritual, ritual becomes myth, and myth begins to eat through reality. When the woman at the center of it all reveals that her idea of healing means keeping everything she touches forever, devotion takes on its true shape: a beautifully painted cage.
Writing The California Fever Dream
“Outside, the sky began changing colors like it was unsure which version of the sunset to run. A Joshua Tree caught fire, silently. Beautifully. And then reassembled itself in reverse.”
— Static at the edge of 29 Palms
“She could taste the day. Hot pennies. Sunscreen. The faint chemical sweetness of melted plastic… She told herself this was normal. California normal. A climate that didn’t ask permission.”
— What California Makes
“The heat was biblical and immediate. By the time she had crossed the wash and climbed the low rise beyond it, her shirt was sticking to her back and her thoughts had gone strangely bright around the edges.”