More in this series
Solitude Is a Human Presumption
Why can’t we imagine, just for the sake of argument, that a joyful spirit leaves some of themselves behind—an echo of joy in a place they once loved?
Why Chicago
It was the wrong type of quietthis isn’t what I bargained for at all
What do I say?
Why would there have been anything written in my closet?
Maybe this was the pareidolia of someone who avoids human interactioninstead of seeing faces in toast, you see words on a wall
I really need to clean . . .
What do I say?
It was the wrong type of quietthis isn’t what I bargained for at all.
The woman must have made a mistake,
Something needed to give
my
Maybe I am not seeing things after all
—
Oh no, oh no.
I hope I can talk to her more.
Gratitude.
Julia Shiota tries to make sense of the world through culture and literature. Find her on Twitter at @julia_megumi or at juliashiota.com.
Enter your email address to receive notifications for author Julia Shiota
Success!
Confirmation link sent to your email to add you to notification list for author Julia Shiota
More by this author
How My Mother Protected Us from My Father and Found Solace in Art
My mother described the Rembrandt paintings as her friends. I'd never heard anyone talk about art that way, instilling it with something like a personhood of its own.
More in this series
The Wedding After the Bomb
Somewhere far away, someone made a call, someone in power said yes to violence, and our friends would never get to see our friends say yes to love.
Self-Contained, Underwater
If she could speak, she would tell me she’s glad my reckoning has arrived.
Every Little Homie Needs a Nickname
Listen, it’s okay to say you want something to stick around. It’s okay to love something.