"I have felt within Venezuela throughout my entire life while spending all of my twenty outside of it. In an attempt to finally understand what happened to the beautiful country in my mother’s stories, I begin to ask questions and start memorizing her recipes."
Two stories of home—one from the North, one from the South—follow four people as they come to terms with how space and identity collide.
"Depression seeps into your body and sits like a weight on your chest and your head, on every part of you—even the parts you’ve never known."
"There isn’t much relevant about the island, other than it was a mass of concrete and metal. It could have been Tokyo, Alcatraz, or even Los Angeles, and not much would change. It was an island, close to the water, but blooming with unnatural creation. It was difficult to grapple with."
“During our visit to South Africa, my greatest test came when the rest of the group and I were blessed with a street performance of Zulu war dances.” Poems.
"The intersections of my identity became points of confusion for me: I was Black like the people I was seeing, but I wasn’t African. I did not even know if I should call myself African-American or if I was being seen as just American, or if it mattered."