Author: Marianne Díaz Hernández
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The notion that us walking down the street somehow “invites” these comments stems from the idea that female bodies are public spaces, perform a public service, and belong to society as a whole, unlike male bodies, which are private and not a battleground for public discourse.
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My favorite dress, not that one, the one that you remember so well ―that one survived for no reason in my overflow bag. A bottle of impossible glowTM that Laura made me buy and that now I don’t know how to live without. A couple of books I took for the trip and never got…
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I think I’m more at home in transience than in places, in liminal spaces like airports and hotels, in traveling and unbeing than in the rooted notion of a country with borders and tags and specific requirements. I’m most at home at home, in my apartment that is almost a non-place in itself, made out…
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She has had her heart broken one too many times, but she thinks everyone else has too. She likes making up stories about the people she sees in the subway, walking down the streets, across the park: every one a glimmering heap of broken glass, all shimmer and reflection and piercing edges of beauty and…
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~ looking for ~ now that you’re gone people ask what i’m looking in a man but the fact is i’m not looking anymore i do want someone to hold my naked body in the cold nights under the blankets, the way you stopped doing many years ago but i’m not looking for them i…
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When crossing the street on an intersection that I walk every day: to be run over by that bus that’s rapidly approaching its stop; to die instantly. When making breakfast at home: to put my hand over the hot griddle; to feel the raging burn coursing through my skin, melting it away. When petting my…
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The way I see it, life is an exercise in losing. You go around leaving pieces of yourself behind, things you have lost while moving places, while leaving relationships, while changing jobs, fragments you will never recover because going back is impossible. It is my fundamental belief that a person is made of the pieces…
