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“…and briefly, there he is in my reflection. my father’s smile. his father’s jawline. The manner of a person passed down in how the light sculpts a face and how shadows are not just cast but connect me to that framed picture of my grandmother when she was young.”

“‘For people of color, some aspect of friendship with white people involves an awareness that you could be dropped through a trapdoor of racism at any moment.’”

nostalgia can be so crippling

“or when i spot, with hours still left in the day, the moonsmoon’s hazy thumbprint. how the moon enjoys debunking the day.”

delicious prose my god