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Migraines have been an integral part of my life since elementary school. Mine are not the kind of artistic lore like Seurat translating his scotoma through pointillism. Rather, my limbs turn to jelly, an electric shock pulsates from the base of my spine through my sagging ponytail, and I lose just enough depth perception to be clumsy. Imagine your worst hangover, but on the day when you learned to roller skate. After the nausea subsides, my body moves into a liminal space where the part I identify as the self waits to operate my body again. These images are a map back to the me that my nervous system bifurcates.

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Migraines have been an integral part of my life since elementary school. Mine are not the kind of artistic lore like Seurat translating his scotoma through pointillism. Rather, my limbs turn to jelly, an electric shock pulsates from the base of my spine through my sagging ponytail, and I lose just enough depth perception to be clumsy. Imagine your worst hangover, but on the day when you learned to roller skate. After the nausea subsides, my body moves into a liminal space where the part I identify as the self waits to operate my body again. These images are a map back to the me that my nervous system bifurcates.

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