Even outside of forms of more explicit resistance, our project hopes to examine what it means to embrace joy and love in the mundane, while existing in a marginalized body that is so often susceptible to violence.
My legs are covered in that thin film of dirt, left over from lying in the grass,/ And from staring at the parts of the trees that vanish when the air becomes callous, no longer sweet and wet fire.
The floor is sticky with stuff you can only hope is beer and everyone is standing in front of their seat, talking with friends or strangers and jiggling up and down to the music in a sort of awkward pseudo-dance.
