Orange Solo
Some nights are a turquoise tango, some days are an orange solo.Â
Finding home & a sense of belonging within shifting identity politics of geography, region, language, politics, ideologies and culture.
Some nights are a turquoise tango, some days are an orange solo.Â
If you were in drag, what would you be like? And where does the drag stop and where begins your identity?
Nobody feels safe right now. Why is it okay for one to weaponise their pain? It’s an unhealthy way to get through the day.
Inside my pockets, I keep pieces of courage, to reach for when I need them.
Nila soru.
Food eaten under the moon.
Food shared with the moon.
Nila soru.
Don’t I look like all the sins you’re going to commit tonight? Feeling flows through me the way water runs through the planet. What is sin but another you rippling along?
Art showcases vulnerability, makes honesty accessible, believable, livable.
I once sent flowers to a boyfriend. He called me desperate & cheated on me. It was toxic masculinity feeling so threatened by flowers that he felt he had to punish me.
“Eena, I sang for an hour today”, says Lolita to her imaginary friend.
Privilege Guilt is the helplessness of having something one did not earn. But your self-flagellation doesn’t actually make heal a sick person.