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Kyoko Uchida



Nothing had warned me of this follow of a line, the honeyed reach forward of a shoulder, rib, a body arriving into the mirror. I'd never had curves before, just the fickle, straight figure of an almost-child, all stops and edges, elbows, tinny bones [...]


In my dream summers before, you are the one leaving. After the long-rehearsed precise movements of my departure, I'd misunderstood: the pale green ticket in my hand, one way, not for sale. I've come too early to the vast and mirrored station, where [...]