Betwixt tarot, succulents, minerals, and lit red candles she sits in her pool of blue with chrysanthemum designs. She asks questions that dig deep into the spiritual realm and bring back realities she had momentarily lost. In complete absorption of the task at hand she’s connecting with the universe and its different representations of energy beginning from her leaf tattoo to her “migrained” head. She’s breathing in the smoke that swirls over cards mentioning emotional scars and battles that fractured thin strings of connections in the form of spiritual tethers. She will always be a bruja and she’s calling out for answers and your name is on her lips as she cleanses her mouth of rancid tastes and feelings of nausea that you so sweetly spoon-fed. She’ll hear Lenine sing his pleasant words and breathe in the musical notes that her succulents are absorbing through their porous membranes. She makes life grow out of dirt. Her bare feet touch the marble tile and her head touches stardust.

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