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By: tiny thunder


my home is missing the smell of baisha cigarettes and regret. i wonder if motherland dreams of the diasporic, if dreaming is synonymous with the hurt.


homage to a tradition in which love and death walk hand in hand; light my cigarette so i can microdose death like a sickly child crawling home to mother — if death is yearned for, 

where is my the motherland?

About the Author

tiny thunder is a writer & illustrator. a member of the sinodiaspora, tiny thunder's work crosses between realms of language, lingering between concepts of time, tongue, and touch. when they aren't writing or illustrating, you can find them perusing old archives or taking long walks by the ocean with their partner. they live in unceded ancestral homeland of the ramaytush ohlone people, otherwise known as the bay area.

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