hands holding her up, hands holding me up, hands holding us up.

*******************that my bones swallowed her death

Dad is teaching beauty.

Our mother, the hillside, how to survive it.

I was born in the spring of ’82 in Tehran, Iran. At a very young age, I demonstrated artistic talent by making handcrafted gifts for friends and family members, and picked up a few painting techniques on my own.

Maria, your whiteness to clay

It’s finally here, folks–So to Speak’s Fall 2011 Issue is printed, shipped, and ready to read.