Tess Pearson

Skin in the making

Sometimes shedding skin feels like death descending at your window calling “rat-ta-tat-tat” in a sing-song voice, with scythe and sharpened glee. Sometimes edging your way out takes years, like wrestling out of wet clothes that never did fit but kept …

Posted in 88: TRANSQUEER | Tagged

Household Ripening

I refuse to do the vacuuming when you are out, my dear even though it is infinitely quicker without a toddler. Though there is a kind of satisfaction in making things clean, such tasks are never complete, but cyclical and …

Posted in 84: SUBURBIA | Tagged