“Black hairs, like spiders’ legs above and below Papi’s knuckles… the torque of a slap across the face… Mami, keening, electricity, mascara… a snippet of nursery rhyme on a loop: ‘arroz con leche, se quiere casar’… all the detritus and minor shocks of corporeal difference… the strangeness, the tactile perversities, somehow forced inside the bony bodies of myself and my sisters and my brother…”
— Nov 23, 2024 02:06PM
Add a comment