Radio and bedtime stories

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When I was small, my parents were sometimes away and the aunts slept in another room, so my sister and I would sleep at the master’s bedroom, listening to voices and sounds on the radio,

clutching our blankets or hiding beneath them while waiting for the right time to scream, like when the moon has come out in the story and the secrets of the night revealed, or when an entity has pushed the boundaries of this cohesive, physical orb, crossing our space from the zone of unknowns. It didn’t help that darkness punctures comfort. In science, anything not understood is called Dark Something: Dark matter, Dark energy. So nights like that, while huddled close to my small sister, I’d nurse a gut feeling that we’re left alone in the universe of unknowns.

In the morning, I would demand the wall to create a portal to Earth no. 2. Other mornings, I’d stand at the back of our house looking up, clipping my bangs behind my ears, arms raised, not afraid to be scooped out by a sky that bends.

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[Throwback no. 2]
photo: some kids in plastic orbs at MOA
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