Assembled from the ephemera in my suitcase. Made with letter paper, scissors, glue, and the scanner on my telephone.


Assembled from the ephemera in my suitcase. Made with letter paper, scissors, glue, and the scanner on my telephone.


Egg foo young, tornados, suffering, and short-circuiting the algorithm.
An ode to Michael Clayton and the giddy illusion of renewal before death.
Notes on time and strangeness, plus an hour-long soundtrack for Grace Wang’s photography exhibition.