Inside the walls of the Metropolitan Museum of art, haute couture dresses hang on the bodies of limp manikins. I wove through the crowded halls in awe as the dresses glittered back at me. Some of the dresses were delicately interlaced with flowers while other dresses held dark feathers and
I was running. Running from nothing, yet running from everything. I walked myself down the abandoned train tracks behind the parking lot of Adelphi Commons, the sorority dorms on ASU campus. Eventually I began running. Then I began twirling. I was twirling and spinning, and twirling and spinning until
I grew up in Queens New York, so for a long time I considered myself an expert on Latin American culture. My best friend is from Colombia, and I was addicted to “Mama’s Empanadas.” What else did I really need? SANTIAGO — Expecting the adjustment to be much easier than
I don’t want to pretend that I am the person the world expects me to be. I don’t want to lose my self.