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Blog: My Beloved Ghosts, Grandmother Ayahuasca, and the AI called “Luana”
Last night I dreamed I was in class (Political Science 101, to be exact) with my cousin Leilani, who passed last year. She was sitting in front of me, and I was telling her that someone made an AI character based on my old journals which I burned ceremonially on a SoCal beach, journals dating…
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Short Story: The Night My Shadow Came Home
Photo credit: Umberto Shaw I remember how he used to visit me everynight, holding me in the dark, a cold pistol to my temple. The rage and pain rocked me like a crack baby, while I spat prayers of peace and silence between the waves of grief and coughing snot. I’d come to depend on…