The afterglow of my last real smoke.

Twenty-one euros for a disposable vape.

I snatched the box from his hands through the bars and stormed around the corner. I needed to find the right word.

And I did.

Found my breath. Binned the box. Kept the contents. Then marched straight back to the shop.

I waited for his attention, weighing out the ammunition.

What else do you want, he glared.

Through the iron bars, I threw back the unused battery — mer.

Threw back the unused canister — can.

Threw back the unused liquid — ti.

Looked him dead square in the eye.

Mercanti.

And fled the scene.

Never come back to my shop! he screamed.

Knowing full well I had already decided never to return.

A Warmonger You Are

One face is named love. The other is named war. The name of the coin is passion — and when you stop looking at which face you're holding, you've left the outcome to chance. We don't think of ourselves as people who wage war. Warmongers

The flasher’s trench coat

A critique. No. I haven't read Hegel. And I know what you're thinking if you have- tugh, she hasn't even read Hegel. (Told you) I've not read Hegel because it's not that his ideas lack value, but because the way

The salmon

A true salmon is immortal till the day it dies. Born to a fresh-water river, it grows then is washed downstream till it hits the ocean. Saltwater infiltrates every cell, burning the fish, reshaping it from within. It then spends years in vast waters, learning everything there is to know

Cultural Inheritance

-Mother My mother has an almost cellular connection to Andalusia. On top of having great taste, she's always drawn to late moorish art and architecture. This woman has been quietly, and often loudly, by my side through thick and thin- Regardless of the ease of our relationship status.

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A Warmonger You Are

The flasher’s trench coat

The salmon

Cultural Inheritance