Immaculate Conception

by Ling Ling Huang

It’d almost be preferable to plagiarize rather than unknowingly replicate a familiar idea, with less skill.

It reminds me of the climate art craze from a decade ago, before it became too problematic for being mostly performative, wasteful, and useless at enacting real change.

Those who had less would be free from the tyranny of desire, and those who had more would be free of their guilt.

He took care of me in a way that I hadn’t believed possible, and that I honestly found a little terrifying. I didn’t feel like my actions or words were worthy of such attentiveness.

Never have I felt more of a dearth of creativity than when I am alone with my children and they ask me to play with them. How? With what? Is my inability to play related to my inability to be a great artist?

I would choose her over any world or life where she didn’t exist.