death
Handal collapses the borders between surrealism and realism, the cinematic and the ordinary. And the use of repetition amplifies her global beats.
Their rage so loud she stopped hearing it. Telephone wires ran through her body and tugged her in different directions the way exile does. The way the world falls and the sea begs when love limps. The way numbers climb the wind like death tolls when oppressors are free.
