Clavo saca clavo. Nothing sacas nothing, you reply. No one will ever be like her.
The thoughts he put in her head. Someone should’ve arrested him for it.
As artists we are here to make you uncomfortable with the complexity of your reality.
Sucks to be left out of adolescence, sort of like getting locked in the closet on Venus when the sun appears for the first time in a hundred years.
Tell her that you love her hair, that you love her skin, her lips, because, in truth, you love them more than you love your own.
You're Dominican only if you do this, this, and that. And if you do this and that, you'll be accepted to a certain degree and if you don't, people will scorn you for it.