The color, a vibrant red that seemed to glow from within, felt like a beating heart. The field morphed into a map of the world whose every continent glowed in bright colors. This is what the world looks like to me, Mama. Breathing and alive.

Reputation, Cimmy thought, was incredibly damaging to a person’s creativity. It kept one locked into a state of being one didn’t belong to anymore, like a tree whose growth is stunted so it continues to fit in a dish. What good is your reputation when fate comes for you?

I have begun experimenting with language translations. Today, Chapter 2 - Reflections, from the novel Between Mirrors, in French.

She was immediately terrified of the new boundary, the one she could see in the distance, that place where the waters fell off the earth into only God knew what.

“The world is surface, a shimmery veil of illusion…”