Date of Submission

Spring 2024

Academic Program

Photography

Project Advisor 1

An-My Le

Abstract/Artist's Statement

Wild Strawberries

The mold is poisoning our girls.

I drove through the fields behind the house last night looking for her. She’s in my right ear, always. In the passenger seat. Take the turn like a fucking man. We are not men. We are barely women. Barely people. She would have said otherwise, but then again she’s not here. And she may never be coming back.

The fields were all flat when I woke up. Tire track marks, greasy black lines running through the corn. The people in town say the corn is full of poison. They said it's making us sick. Making us behave nasty, crass, and cruel. My family has lived on this land for centuries. There is no going back. There is nowhere to go back to.

I sleep all day. I dream of her. I dream that she’s alive. So alive. Her cold finger running down my back. How could she leave? How could she leave when we were having so much fun?

I’m thinking now of the summer when we were ten. We went to the zoo with Pa one day. We were walking by the flamingos. Pa was talking about Ma. We weren't listening. Just kicking up rocks and chewing on our lips. Suddenly you picked up your pace. You were running. Kicking up rocks all over the place. Pa was chasing you, you fell near the end of the path. When I got to you there was blood all in your mouth. It scared me. You looked like one of the animals.

We know each other from beyond the grave. We’ve known each other since we were dead. I don’t know why you left, and now I sit here and think about it. Maybe you weren’t having fun anymore. Maybe you were tired of it all.

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