I bought a pot. It wasn’t huge, but enough to cook instant noodles in my dorm, so they no longer had to be wiggly, crunchy, oily puffed,...

We cannot lie to angels when it snows.   The ground turns black and white.   She sees ink strokes, left- over paint drowning the canvas...

In autumn, silence must’ve been scattered – top of the maple, where the moon hangs   small and yellow. Gibbous sounds, clinging onto...