"Pistachio"
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Angel & Shira
Angel-and-Shira-10.12.18.jpg
How are you feeling right now?
Jenna Wortham
TONI-03.12.20.jpg
"Hood Shaman"
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Kenya and Alex
Kenya-and-Alex-03.12.20.jpg
My love,

It's still dark out this morning. The spring is early and still held in the arms of the cold when my breath waits in the air. I watch murmurations over the fields and the frozen dirt crunches under my boots, I'm leading you to the ocean. It's coastal countryside that I remember so fondly at the trailer. It rained every day and allthe nights smelled of smoke and ash. It's too cold to take off your shoes on the beach and the sun never rises, only turns from indigo to a grey hue. But I wake up and it's still five am in the house, three hours south from there. It has been a long time since I have seen the ocean. It has been a while since we have seen one another, if at all. But I think that's part of the beauty of loving without needing to be seen. Like a kiss on the cheek with your eyes closed. It's a cold fragile hope. Loving without seeing is an image of eternity.

In patience we find ourselves. White snow that rests on desire that freezes in time. I would love to see you. And when we look at one another we will hold our hands tightly together and we suspend that quiet moment until it becomes one we can share.

I am kept up to this blue haze by dreams that swim in and out of rhythms the rain gently taps me into waking. Dreams that tremble and waver, but never drowned out by morning rains. It flows in the streams back to you waiting for us to share this dream together. The ocean swallows the rivers as the sound of thunder like a hammer absorbs the sound. Hammer like a fell wind chime and between the beats my heart waits for you. They are dreams that ferry us towards a world where we are perhaps unhindered in our potential and desires. A universe which tears us open and in our vulnerability this new world embraces us with only tenderness and abundance. I dream of us in a world like that. That is a world you deserve my love. Though I don't know where the other world is, however far away it may be my love will be always waiting there for you.

I love you. In the ways only a faceless and spacious dream of love can bloom. In our greatest imaginations that bewitch us in love I dream a river back to you where the cherry blossoms fall to and sail home to you. They kiss your hands and lay their cheek on your palms. I envy the embrace of the ocean to all running water. But water doesn't run to the ocean. Small rivers don't exist with the purpose of being absorbed into the ocean. The ocean bursts forth, water needing to take so many other forms and thus stretches it's arm farther, pushing the limits of what it could be and chooses new names for itself. I know you are expanding, that any ache or sorrow in your heart is not drawing into you but extending out in warm embrace.

Love is waiting for us.
As love has always been, is, and always will be waiting for us.

Waiting like a fever dream.
A nymph at the base of a volcano running mystic fingers through lava like a spring A horse raced so fast that your bare legs plaster to its sides from sweat
A candle that burns from two ends, we hold in the center

Aching like snow ablaze. Doused in oil standing eight feet deep over the frozen field for a glorious moment on fire. The fire like a moment of touch after solitude. An ache held in the arms of love. A door like the arms of love. I carried the ache across the threshold. It was open so I let myself in.

Like blood in the snow
I'll carry you if you need me to.
And if you ache, let it ache.
If you want to walk, I'll hold your hand until we get there.

Yours.
Rin If you want to walk, I'll hold your hand until we get there.
Shannon-03.12.20.jpg
Claire-03.12.20.jpg
How are you feeling right now?
Anaïs Duplan
Kiyanna-and-Jannah-10.11.18.jpg
"Tickle"
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Kiyanna and Jannah
"Sensuality Map"
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Jessie and Auston
Ica-09.04.20.jpg
"Sacral Hold"
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Tatiana and Rahel
How are you feeling right now?
Elle Clay
Latham-08.13.20.jpg
Ebony-and-Erika-10.30.20.jpg
"It Blooms"
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Ericka and Ebony
Janelle-03.12.20.jpg
An-08-13.20.jpg
How are you feeling right now?
Rosemary Reyes
*Meditation*
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Atheel

About

To find pleasure. To seek touch. I think about all the ways I learned to live again. A haptic journey. A love letter. A care package. A glimpse. A look. I remember how deprived I was and didn’t know until some point in April 2020, I asked if I could hug his ankles. Jenna sent roses. Ica sent mangoes. Kyle made pasta. Arvy sent a care package full of yarrow. Rosemary sent a self-care worksheet you can read below. Sable sent a juniper spirit and birds of paradise. Dimples. Videos. Memes. Pictures. Anything that might make us laugh or feel.

I told Ica a few nights ago I cried so hard I almost threw up. She reminded me of last spring by saying “remember last year when the tears wouldn’t come?” For months, I talked about how I just wished I could cry. I felt so lonely, so anxious, so tired, so unable to rest. Pushed to be productive, so impossible. Pull. Pull. Pull. The only warmth I felt was the sun on my feet. I lost family members. I lost touch. I’m still losing family. But in all of the losing, there’s been so much care and love and collaboration and kinship. Digital heirlooms. Zoom game nights. Postcards. Pinching nipples. Wooden spoons.

Invitation.
Always forthcoming.

Elle made links for us to listen to albums in their entirety: Minnie Riperton, Maxwell, one more I’m forgetting. Jessie & Auston gave me their apartment for a month as I transitioned from a 6 year home to the next place to my current home, my current life that feels so full and lush and warm and romantic and safe. Toni brought gifts to our first encounter. Alex & Kenya became friends who supported me in recording oral histories — conversations you can hear here. We’ve only met once and now they live in a place that used to be my home. I met Caroline 5 years ago at a Cafe Erzuile backyard birthday bashment. Lizette wrote every single line of code. Angel & Shira sat 8 feet from us at Auston’s 50th in Prospect Park. We waved and stared at each other with so much love. We shouted. We wore party hats. I got tangled between my mask, my hat, my glasses, and my hoops. It’s still not over. I wear a scent by Tatiana nearly every day.

Now, at home, I’m loved in the fullest way.

A life. A life. A life. Now. An emergent archive. A Pur·suit. Desire. Longing. Sensory. A living, breathing. Transitions. You’re moving plenty fast. I’ll let you know when I see blood. It’s still not over. A haptic journey. A love letter. A care package. A glimpse. Pull, pull, pull. Handmade pasta with brown butter and sage. Digital heirlooms. Zoom game nights. Postcards. Pinching nipples. Dried Mangoes. Wooden spoons. Remember when the tears wouldn’t come. A surprise bouquet with birds of paradise. Juniper & gold. To find pleasure. To seek touch. All the ways I learned to live again.

My love,
Naima

Contributors

Special thanks to

Site Design
Caroline Washington, Art Direction and Design
Lizette Ayala, UX Design

Portraits and Interviews
Anaïs Duplan
Angel Nafis & Shira Erlichman
Claire Mullen
Ericka Hart & Ebony P. Donnley
Ica Sadagat
Janelle Eradiri
Jessie Levandov & Auston Bjorkman
Kenya Denise & Alexandra DiPalma
Kiyanna Stewart & Jannah Handy
Latham
Rahel Neirene & Tatiana Godoy Betancur
Shannon Matesky
Toni Branson

Texts, Offerings, & Herbal Support
Atheel Elmalik
Anaïs Duplan
Arvolyn Hill
Elle Clay
Emma Kates-Shaw
Ica Sadagat
Jenna Wortham
Marissa Hall
Rin Kim Ni
Rosemary Reyes
Suhaly Bautista-Carolina

Sounds
Elle Clay
Emma Kates-Shaw
Jenna Wortham
Nappy Nina

Interviews

"Pistachio" with Angel & Shira

"Hood Shaman" with Kenya & Alexandra

"Tickle" with Kiyanna & Jannah

"Sensuality Map" with Jesse & Auston

"Sacral Hold" with Rahel & Tatiana

"It Blooms" with Ericka & Ebony

Aural Delights

Elle's Playlist — Slower but Steadier

Emma's Playlist — Exquisite Exhaustion

Jenna's Playlist — Luscious & Still

Nina's Playlist — Touched

A Meditation, A Prayer, Atheel Elmalik

Texts

++ A Love Letter ++ by Rin Kim

My love,

It's still dark out this morning. The spring is early and still held in the arms of the cold when my breath waits in the air. I watch murmurations over the fields and the frozen dirt crunches under my boots, I'm leading you to the ocean. It's coastal countryside that I remember so fondly at the trailer. It rained every day and allthe nights smelled of smoke and ash. It's too cold to take off your shoes on the beach and the sun never rises, only turns from indigo to a grey hue. But I wake up and it's still five am in the house, three hours south from there. It has been a long time since I have seen the ocean. It has been a while since we have seen one another, if at all. But I think that's part of the beauty of loving without needing to be seen. Like a kiss on the cheek with your eyes closed. It's a cold fragile hope. Loving without seeing is an image of eternity.

In patience we find ourselves. White snow that rests on desire that freezes in time. I would love to see you. And when we look at one another we will hold our hands tightly together and we suspend that quiet moment until it becomes one we can share.

I am kept up to this blue haze by dreams that swim in and out of rhythms the rain gently taps me into waking. Dreams that tremble and waver, but never drowned out by morning rains. It flows in the streams back to you waiting for us to share this dream together. The ocean swallows the rivers as the sound of thunder like a hammer absorbs the sound. Hammer like a fell wind chime and between the beats my heart waits for you. They are dreams that ferry us towards a world where we are perhaps unhindered in our potential and desires. A universe which tears us open and in our vulnerability this new world embraces us with only tenderness and abundance. I dream of us in a world like that. That is a world you deserve my love. Though I don't know where the other world is, however far away it may be my love will be always waiting there for you.

I love you. In the ways only a faceless and spacious dream of love can bloom. In our greatest imaginations that bewitch us in love I dream a river back to you where the cherry blossoms fall to and sail home to you. They kiss your hands and lay their cheek on your palms. I envy the embrace of the ocean to all running water. But water doesn't run to the ocean. Small rivers don't exist with the purpose of being absorbed into the ocean. The ocean bursts forth, water needing to take so many other forms and thus stretches it's arm farther, pushing the limits of what it could be and chooses new names for itself. I know you are expanding, that any ache or sorrow in your heart is not drawing into you but extending out in warm embrace.

Love is waiting for us.
As love has always been, is, and always will be waiting for us.

Waiting like a fever dream.
A nymph at the base of a volcano running mystic fingers through lava like a spring A horse raced so fast that your bare legs plaster to its sides from sweat
A candle that burns from two ends, we hold in the center

Aching like snow ablaze. Doused in oil standing eight feet deep over the frozen field for a glorious moment on fire. The fire like a moment of touch after solitude. An ache held in the arms of love. A door like the arms of love. I carried the ache across the threshold. It was open so I let myself in.

Like blood in the snow
I'll carry you if you need me to.
And if you ache, let it ache.
If you want to walk, I'll hold your hand until we get there.

Yours.
Rin If you want to walk, I'll hold your hand until we get there.

*Download full text here*



a cento for contact sub rosa by Ica

*Download full text here*

Self-Love Tip for Remote Working, Rosemary Reyes

*Download full text here*

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