When I learned the US map I learned it like it was a cemetery plot, and imagined that the states were graves. I have a birthmark on my neck that’s shaped like California. The most spacious, grave-like state.
New York leaves behind its own marks on my neck. At first the city drugged me like amphetamines. I took it just as bravely as I do when I’m adjusting to the icy temperatures of ocean. But New York has been the coldest ocean that could ever touch my skin. The chill can still give me a shock. It reminds me that New York has never felt like home.
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