Even if I Fall, I´ll Shine by Ana Sylvia Encinas
It was the fall of 2010, late October; the streets in London were beautifully covered of Maple leaves, wonderful to my eyes, because I never get to see that type of tree or leaf, living in the desert in northern Mexico. I figured that probably…
The Weight of Small Things
The kitchen of my childhood smelled of cold metal and the sharp, sweet tang of overripe peaches. I remember the way my fingertips would trace the hard, cool edges of the plastic trinkets stuck to the refrigerator door. They were smooth, slightly…
The Weight of Small Things
We collect tokens to prove we were somewhere. A plastic shape, a painted surface, a souvenir of a place we have already begun to forget. We press them against the cold metal of our lives, hoping to hold the door shut against the draft. It is…