María spaces out. A lot. She’s inspired by impractical objects, bored commuters, and the sun. She’ll embroider your shirt and stuff you with creamy food. She loves discovering parallel universes, telling stories in the dark and capelettini.


chalked with sun dustspinning smilesreflected on their filed teeth the melody of the past.their fangs grew at duskselfish desirepierced their dehydrated lips and exposed new powers. think of their claws, dipped in molassesdripping sauces orof their tongues caressing the ethergrazing egos andsanding their gyri. look at their hooves, drenched in glucosetastes like raspberry, blackberry, blueberrygazes…

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“What will you be ashamed of 50 years from now?”   The day I saw my brother push my sister, I just froze behind the glass door. “Childish nonsense,” I thought later, but it didn’t feel quite right. I simply didn’t understand why. My sister was mad and defended herself with a teddy bear. My…

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Her paranoia woke up every time just before her, to make sure fear appeared intrinsic to her days. Like a ghost dragging a dusty cape, it would follow her every second so she’d be reminded of its existence. It would sweep along the untold words that, curled up, would clog her brain at night. Everyone…

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