I can believe almost anything-that we beganas thoughts an ocean away carried as seeds or smog or trashacross the waterby capital by will by Godorwe beganas crumbs ferried in the beaks ofwaxwings birds of paradisewe beganas birds ourselves- migrationinstinct.Pins pierce dots and blocks of color to yoke memory to cartography:we've scattered across the world.Tiny planetsmark crumbsentire lives spunalong axes imperceptibleto souls never moved by the wind.
-Michelle Peñaloza
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