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This is my studio for exploring my work. Consider these drafts.

I won’t translate

I won’t translate. A foreign language, a foreign lover, a foreign time. All I can think as I watch her is “this cannot be said in words.” And I can’t hear what is whispered into the receiver, anyway. Everything is so…far. Away. But she holds the phone as if it were a presence and something not cold. 

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by Balthazar Simões