Muse by Cassi QuaysonPosted on August 31, 2020August 31, 2020 My face and my head pulse, and so does the radio. I’m losing track of time, but I can tell that we’re close to the beach when the police officer stops us—the ceaseless strip of road has gone satisfyingly gritty with sand. Advanced Writing CourseFictionbeauty creativity race relationships representation trauma travel violence