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Quote by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

“I'm attending a monthly meeting at Colectiva Por Fin on my first night on Staten Island. The room is small but as more men come in, it seems to double and triple in size. On the wall, migrants are celebrated through art that strikes me as deeply annoying, mostly the word "migrant" reconfigured as butterflies. I fucking hate thinking of migrants as butterflies. Butterflies can't fuck a bitch up.”

Quote by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

Book:The Undocumented Americans
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The Undocumented Americans

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Karla Cornejo Villavicencio

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“The young Prince arrived in this world, lost and very frightened. The thread he had followed was broken, and he had no means of spinning another. His friend, the Spider Mage, was too far away to hear his cries, and this world of cruelty and noise was too much for him. Even the air was unbreathable. And so he crept into World Below, and wept to himself in the darkness. As he wept, his grief was so great that he broke into a cloud of butterflies and moths, each one a fragment of himself, that scattered into the darkness of the tunnels beneath the city. Some of them found their way to the light. Others stayed in the darkness. Some slept. And they became two separate groups-- one living underground, one in the light, both yearning for the world they had left, and for the chance to be whole again.”

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“Tom followed her gaze. Above them, the narrow ribbon of sky was starting to show the first signs of dawn. Out of the London smoke, it came-- blush pink, absinthe green, ice blue, lemon yellow--- 'That isn't the dawn,' said Tom. And now through the colors, Tom thought he could see figures and patterns against the sky: patterns like magic lantern shapes against a screen of vibrant silk. The Daylight Folk.”

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Book:The Moonlight Market
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