The Last Train Out
A late-night train ride through Los Angeles turns into a descent through time, memory, and addiction. As the city rewinds itself around her, a woman is forced to face the versions of herself she thought she escaped.
GloMart_0307.AVI: Playback Error
When a girl in a glittering jacket appears inside a looping camera feed from 1999, one night-shift worker begins to lose track of where the recording ends and reality begins. In the hum of fluorescent light and static, the store becomes something else entirely: a threshold for the lost, the unfinished, and the ones still waiting to be seen.
The In-N-Out Between Worlds
A woman drifting through the California desert follows a mysterious receipt into a world where In-N-Out counters, drive-in screens, and motel ghosts begin replaying the love she never knew how to stay inside. As memory gives way to possibility, she is offered one last order: keep running, or take what was waiting for her all along.
The Chapel with the Backwards Pews
A woman vanishes into a strange, looping world of motel pools, static-lit skies, and identities that refuse to stay fixed. There, in a chapel where the pews face backward and the altar points toward something like truth, she begins to understand that leaving is not always the opposite of becoming.
White Sands, I’m Not Lost Anymore
A woman wakes after death in a white desert where sorrow blooms into flowers, old letters can be buried into beauty, and the people she left behind come to meet her one by one. What unfolds is a surreal reckoning with love, regret, and the possibility of peace after a life that hurt too much to stay inside.
We Don’t Heal All At Once, We Echo
A mysterious church in Echo Park offers no salvation, only recognition. Faced with a congregation of the lost and a preacher who speaks in their own voice, one visitor must decide whether remembering is its own kind of mercy.
Solarium Girl: A Devotion
A tanning bed in a Los Angeles salon becomes transfixed by the one girl who enters it like a secret and leaves part of herself behind each time. As its devotion deepens, it begins to imagine that keeping her safe and keeping her are the same thing.
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.”