[SILENT] but created with Spanglish thoughts. How can I know the places lost to me like the language of my grandparents, of my mother, as I trace back to escape the fucked-up spectacle of the United States to return to another spectacle of my own creation. Looking at reality, a map I have believed. I just want to build a map of everything, about God, that can escape the nothingness that trails me like my shadow. Like a mirror. Like a hypercube. Like spiral staircases.