Last night I ingested my mother’s gold in hopes it would bring value to every worthless part of my body I brought her bangles to my teeth and bit them so hard I drew blood holding them under my tongue … Read More
The lemon was precious, as was every morsel of food that entered one’s house. I was raised to shudder at the mere thought of throwing away anything on my plate, encouraged to catch all the stray grains of kasha and watching my dad soak up every last bit of soup in his plate with the bread my mum baked like clockwork every few days.
“There are a million wolves hiding in the environmental substrate I’ve called speargrass. The reality is that they’re not even wolves. When they get home in the evening, they take off the wolfskin and look just like us.”
“This genre’s title, corecore, makes a totalizing claim on the thousands of balkanized subgenres and subaesthetics that fleet past the user: only a certain set of objects and clips can be dazecore or college dormcore, but corecore encompasses all such ‘cores,’ all these oddly particular aesthetics.”