Only Alive on Sundays
“The blood of love seeps out from eyes like the juice of sweet nectarines. It drips down throats, chests, spines—a reminder that love is the deed of the living, always messy and an indication of desire as a sticky form of suffering.”
Written using tarot cards, Only Alive on Sundays blurs the line between the magical and the mundane. Rashidi weaves the narrative of each Major Arcana card into an electric tale exploring the romance of pursuing selfhood, painting an image of what it would look like to be caught in the midst of The Lovers, The Tower, The Moon…
In a world of hidden meanings and yearnful glances, she fatefully runs into him one summer. But all she wants to know is what his bathroom tiles look like…
Mila is in her late 20s and she’s made it this far in life without really being alive. She is constantly thinking about herself from the outside in. All of that changes when she tries to find herself within two men who are so different yet so alike. One has a knowing smile, the other wears an enchanting grin. Both offer her moments so ripe they may as well be juicy nectarines for her to devour—but if it’s love or devotion, she can’t figure out.
Working in an antique shop with a portal into endless possibilities, Mila interacts with the many faces of her being. She catapults her self-actualization when she confronts the watchful eye that lives within her. Sundays are—finally—made holy when she starts worshiping herself.
