an essay from forever. and from the 9 days I was in Singapore… Dear Singapore, I walk the streets, past the colonial facades and the Indian concierges with the turbans and dressed in white uniforms and the touches of Morocco and Christianity and Islam and India on all...

i can feel the air-cushioned cards between my fingers when i hold the entire deck. or a piece of the deck. compulsively. i can’t let go. and the touch of the top of the card to the pad of my finger. fingers. and the face of the cards. a different feel. on the...