Squid. I am transfixed by her. I knew she could create, but not in this way. As complex as I
endeavour to create. I follow her. Watch her work her magic. From afar down below.
I watch & wonder if she is watching me. If she hears my curiosity curling into her depths. This
is her realm. But I tell her, I too dwell in darkness sometimes. And how it soothes me when I am
not thinking. As in sleep & those moments in between.
She welcomes me there, to be for a little while. She didn’t like me asking questions about her
work, so I stopped & let her in peace. I watched her weave her web as my own life was coming
undone. I felt the strings breaking. The loose ends dangling at the periphery of what I knew.
The rest felt obsolete. It was the strangest feeling. I knew I was dying. Yet I felt more alive than
I could learn something from her. Like how to tie up loose ends and not lose myself in the night.
How to weave magic & something that makes sense in this darkness.
I learnt. But it took time. Time watching her, how she did it. How she spun her magic through
the dark and turned it all to light —
Kiana Angalia is a writer and artist. Her work explores what it means to embrace the vastness of this extraordinary human experience. Kiana has published three poetry books: Emergence, Untethered, and The Skin We Breathe. She is a nomad at heart and lives between Woodstock NY, Vienna, and Kenya. kianaangalia.com