Dust settles all over me. It’s not that I am still. No, I never have been. Only, it is that I am untasted, untouched, still wrapped, still done up. Like a Russian princess in her abandoned castle that emits purple smoke, the remains charred from rebellion. I’m waiting and waiting and waiting. In the room next door Genghis Khan strikes again. It is not the … Continue reading “Genghis Khan Strikes Again” by Stephanie Macias