photo essay
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El Bueno y El Malo, Writing Exercises, Mesquite Memories.
It’s a cold Sunday morning, and I’m sitting on the floor in front of my record player. There is a persistent tightness in my throat nagging at me alongside a wavering in my body like my limbs are trying to not become lost at sea. The guitar strums on this record remind me of heat…
Jicamahouse | Personal Blog 