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Like mining, writing takes more energy and courage the deeper you go – the compact nature of the earth, and how descending mimics burial. I’m drawn to the bravery – in danger small details consume your vision. I want to unearth something even while being obedient to gravity. And everything is refractive – not only the minerals but the walls remind me of seabirds and the smell of diesel brings me back to a certain closet. I try to trace my pet subjects – the feminine divine, mental health, family, immigration, everyday observations – to both root and possibility. Living itself, to me, is an eternal age of displacement. I follow the paths and try to find where they inevitably intersect. I’m drawn to language that entertains and startles without overshadowing the ordinary miner’s solitude. There’s this drive to make it all connect. Embroider words with enough power to cut through granite. Dig deep for keepsakes. I’ll try to find the motherlode, for you.
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