Alex Halka & Vlaicu Golcea | Lasa



smelling the flowers pressed against her neck




Georgi Kay | Scary People


Every day the butterfly visits me in one form or another. “Chrysalis.” She comes out through the TV show I put on in the background, on the radio program in my uber, on a webpage about film (I must have conjured her through the story). Or she conjured herself through my memory. “It’s not so much a death, as it is a transformation.” The radio lady’s voice echoes in my head.