I came from this dust.Wherever I may wander, the land walks with me.Look closer—can you see......

She holds storms within her.  She is a house with windows and doors open, andcracks between......

I lost my pen in blood.  I lost my knowledge in ignorance.  I lost my way......

Grab the pen and write and write, and write from beginning to end. Write about the......

It may have been my ancestors who held the blade, but my fingers are the ones......

Art is not personal. It also is not a projection of our inner ‘self’. Rather, what......

The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain that they fear......