Crabapple

The best I can do, in my spells, is to throw myself towards the chaotic overlap of symbols that I like. I try to aim for the area where, even if I miss, I will enjoy the consequences.

Offerings

My room became a Wunderkammer of sorts, filled with strange and magical items right alongside cheap pieces of mass-produced plastic that made me laugh and reminded me of my friends. The ways in which I saw the gods grew into a visual language, a series of physical metaphors grounded in my everyday experience and sprawling across my living space. Like all languages, it began to create its own meaning.

Visibility

I have never considered myself either a woman or a man. From the first days of my exploration, I was very clear that my identity was something else, a trickster-slick and shifting thing that slipped past both words and into uncharted lands. It was, by definition, dangerous.

Dreamworld Visitations

If I’m lucky, they’ll tell stories of the journeys they take across landscapes as alien as anything in Oz. “I ended up in someone’s garden,” they explain. “Only they were a sort of – scarecrow accordion? I apologized, and they let me cut through their house.” “Why did you need to go through their house?” I ask, and they pause, thoughtful. “Because that was the easiest way to get to you.”

Oathring

“How are you supposed to know you gave up anything, if nothing changes?”