Immaculate Conception

by Ling Ling Huang

Is there anyone who knows a young woman’s body better than her closest friends? By way of love or comparison or some combination of the two?

Everything I’ve achieved has been from trying to keep up with her, and I only know who I am in relation to her. What do I do if she’s really gone? Will I also cease to exist?

“Don’t hold originality up on some pedestal, Enka. Who does originality actually serve? Not the public. The public needs to be shocked and reminded of their own feelings, which everything else in the world seeks to numb. Whatever the purpose of art is, it isn’t to be original for originality’s sake.”

Being seen forces me to see myself, and I break under the weight of my gaze.