Don't be multiple, be multiplicities!

Epistolaria 2.8 May 2026 / About the project

I’ve often likened myself to water. I flow where I must, take the shape of my container, carry with me the dirt and debris in my path. At my choosing, I can surge in torrents, move between rooms mist-like, caress as a cool stream. Amorphous; full of possibility.

A world-eater, I nourish myself with encountered trinkets and rituals, wherever they may be. An acquaintance’s living room, the barely-there sidewalks of Manila, the opera house, an old diner in small-town America, the night markets of Taiwan, or even the Instagram profile of a Certified Cool Girl. In each one is something to admire and learn from — A way of styling a coffee table. How to express respect and gratitude in another culture. A flavor profile to add to my palate. A fashion silhouette to seek in my next vintage hunt. The water that I am, I come away from every space carrying new sunken treasures, my container reshaped anew.

Cultural omnivorousness, I learned recently, is what sociologists call this supposedly indiscriminate, relentless appetite for the world. The cultural omnivore orders from both traditionally highbrow and lowbrow menus. She can hold a conversation about either pharmaceutical market capture or the latest pop culture catfight. She will drink a glass of either a ‘97 Chateaunneuf-du-Pape or box wine, depending on the kind of evening. Charli XCX, Gregorio Allegri, ALAMAT, La Femme, and Swedish House Mafia coexist in her private playlists. She sees existing racial, class, and gender barriers and crosses them like a diplomat. (Yes, this hypothetical she is myself. I make no pretenses about my anecdotal approach — yo ocupo el mundo, y el mundo me ocupa a mí, indeed.)