rigs still hanging. the crowd’s gone. just light, angles, and someone wrapping cables in the distance. no urgency. just the slow undoing of what passed through.

#tiohtiàke #drift #traces #surfaces #fragments #blackness #refusals

they painted it red. no signature. no spectacle. just a fact on a wall most people won’t read. someone bikes past. life goes on. or doesn’t.

#tiohtiàke #drift #refusals #blackness #traces #fragments

steel and glass above me. heat on the thighs. watermelon trunks, black towers, a view that costs too much. but i’m here anyway. resting in the contradiction.

#tiohtiàke #drift #surfaces #blackness #fragments #holdings #refusals

intermission. outside the ball. boots up. talk moving. nothing profound. just enough to reset before stepping back in.

#tiohtiàke #drift #blackness #queerness #holdings #fragments

me and mother phoenix. mid-show, mid-shift, but nothing uncertain.

the name had already settled. this was the exhale. not just a mother— my friend, my people, my kin.

some moments don’t need a mic. just light, sweat, knowing.

#tiohtiàke #drift #holdings #blackness #queerness #fragments #refusals

for one of my best ones. the candles held. so did we. strawberries, sugar, a whole lot of light.

not a performance of joy— the real thing. held in the breath, shared in the room.

this is how we stay.

#tiohtiàke #drift #holdings #queerness #blackness #fragments #refusals

l’art existe. tucked between brutalist lines and fluorescent shadows. not a declaration— a reminder. of what survives the structure. of what glows anyway. even in institutions. especially in ruins.

#tiohtiàke #drift #traces #surfaces #refusals #fragments #holdings

they call it wisdom but it reads like distance.

pages upon pages to say: perhaps you are real but not yet certain. perhaps you belong but only if it doesn’t make others uncomfortable.

they write of tension like it’s an external thing. they measure discomfort but not whose it is.

they gather everything but us.

no affected voice in the room, no hand in the margins, no breath in the footnotes.

somewhere, a child tries to speak and finds their name missing from the glossary.

#tiohtiàke #drift #fragments #refusals #traces

i haven’t been back to italian class. not really a decision—more like a slow unthreading.

at first i missed one, then two. a message half-drafted. a reminder snoozed. now it’s just a tab i don’t open.

i think of them sometimes, conjugating without me. the schwa still soft in my mouth. still mine, even if unused.

there was no rupture. no reason. just me, always a little too tired, a little too elsewhere. it’s not shame. not quite guilt either. just the shape of absence when you let it stay.

i’ve left so many places like this. no goodbye, no explanation. not because it didn’t matter, but because it did—and i couldn’t hold it all.

the leaving isn’t loud. it’s slow. partial. unfinished. like language. like me.

#tiohtiàke #fragments #refusals #traces #drift

stood there teaching, not to perform, but to remember. to speak of what refuses extraction. to name what pulses under erasure. black keffiyeh against the chest, kiki futures on the screen. the room knew. not everything had to be said. some things shimmered between us.

#kjipuktuk #drift #blackness #queerness #refusals #fragments #holdings