Amiah Taylor
Amiah Taylor grew up in Honolulu and is easily won over by a warm cup of caramel tea. She enjoys writing about business, virtual reality, luxury trends, and the environment. She is also a featured author in Haunt Publishing’s anthology, When They Saw Us, They Saw The Dead. Her articles can be found in the Institute for Science & Policy at the Denver Museum of Nature and Science, Fortune, Discover, NBC LX, The Observer, Live Kindly, Well+Good, Yahoo Finance, and more. You can follow her adventures on Instagram at @handfulofmia.
Predictions
picture a dream, the kitchen is wallpapered and a mother soaks iridescent cuts of tilapia salt white and begging for egg wash. it is a purple summer evening. sultry hazy heat lingers in the corner and whistles. car alarm blaring, urban birdsong. flour spotted hands roll biscuit dough into small circles. you breathe steam from the collards, a pot of wilted faultlines and the necks of prey. all colors register: leaf, oil spill and sun you went to sleep trying to define soul. you conjured your mother frying fish, sunflower oil in the pan sizzling. she is creating, like you are. oven womb baking bread.