oumaima·Dec 26, 2022more lightHow forgetful I am, to only think of winter in shades of dark, cold, and the occasional dreary dead.A response icon2A response icon2
oumaima·May 8, 2022idle landIt troubles me how little I understand of the way memory works: the back and forth, the pacing. The waiting rooms.A response icon1A response icon1
oumaima·Jan 25, 2022poetics of timeInfinitely small increments of time add up into miracles. Not a slow drip of singular seconds but maybe rain.A response icon1A response icon1
oumaima·Jan 3, 2022un cœur au bois dormantI worry I am smothering my heart to death.A response icon2A response icon2
oumaima·Dec 2, 2021Chagall blueLately I have been bottling up days like kitchen jars.A response icon2A response icon2
oumaima·Jun 9, 2021pour grief into anything and it will hold its shapeGrief is an endless summer night with air too heavy to sleep or breathe. The window is open but no air will come through.A response icon2A response icon2
oumaima·Dec 27, 2020et j’aimerai le bruit du vent dans le blé…Before I met you I was busy building my own mythology.
