We found the oldest book in the pocket of our best friend’s leather jacket.
There were seeds inside.
We read the seeds and we witnessed the falling of the statues and our names fell with them in glassy oceans.
We put our lips against the glass and sucked on the silvery orbs made by starfish.
We drilled holes in our skulls and bathed in the black waters of saturn.
We gave in to the whims of feathered beings.
Words by Manisha Anjali
A collaboration with Cristina Fernández Guererro