Everything

The ticking of a clock sounds like small gasps like when a parent sees their child turn around, all dressed, ready for the ball. But what does it feel like the other way around? When a child watches her mother once a goddess, glowing gold grow dusty as time begin to bury her. Photographs capture moments that no longer belong to us, and yet, they're how we remember who we were. The one standing in front of me now is newer, stranger and each memory made fills our lungs with the

Dearest you You got more spots splattered Across your body Were they moles or freckles? You never knew But they’ve been with you Since you first touched the sun They’ve been ridiculed Unwanted Used as connect the dots Tiny Brown spots Were they skin cancer or beauty marks? The canvas they decorate Has also wrinkled With lines from different lifetimes This one you seem pretty satisfied in And your eyes Beautiful swirling coffee cup orbs Have they sat out too long Turned cloudy

Halloween celebrates ghosts — but the scariest ones today live online. And not the “strangers” my mother warned me about either. The real horror is exposure . I grew up online. The internet remembers everything... even the things we wish it didn’t. (Hello, old YouTube account I can’t access. 👋) Now, as a designer and a parent, I think about what that means, not just for our kids, but for our parents. Just because they’ve seen a lot doesn’t mean they have the tools to spot th