{"id":251111,"date":"2026-07-13T00:59:39","date_gmt":"2026-07-12T21:59:39","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/200-monas-jan-saenz\/"},"modified":"2026-07-13T00:59:39","modified_gmt":"2026-07-12T21:59:39","slug":"200-monas-jan-saenz","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/1kitap1.com\/en\/200-monas-jan-saenz\/","title":{"rendered":"200 Monas – Jan Saenz"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Mom died four weeks ago, but her patchouli incense still lingers in the drywall of her closet. All her crusty second-hand Persian rugs\u2014gone. All thrifted furniture and vintage trinkets\u2014gone. Sold to cover funeral costs. All is quiet. All is empty. All except a rack of kaftans, three boxes of photo albums, and 200 hits of Molly in a Ziploc bag. I scoff. This is so Mom. Always leaving her latest projects lying around the house. I had just finished lugging an armful of gladiator sandals into a Goodwill box when the bag dropped from an overhead shelf, landing on my big toe like a bean bag tossed from the void.<\/p>\n

A ghost\u2019s invitation to play. I give the drugs a violent shake in her direction. \u201cAre you kidding me with this?\u201d Across the room, a bright blue urn stares back at me. Even in death, my mother has found a way to minimize my outrage, her quick quips and cheeky winks milled down and compacted to ash inside a ceramic studio apartment no bigger than a coffee pot. She sits, perched on the floor next to my crumpled sleeping bag.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been sleeping in her room. \u201cSeriously, you couldn\u2019t have flushed your stash before you jumped ship? Maybe gifted it to your horny women\u2019s circle?\u201d I keep waiting for her to respond, to waddle after me like some enchanted Disney houseware whenever I turn my back. Mom was anything but passive. This silence is new for me. \u201cI know you can hear me,\u201d I hiss, returning to her closet.<\/p>\n

The scent of fresh cardboard invades my nose. I\u2019m still waiting for the lights to flicker, the closet door to slam shut behind me. For weeks, I have waited for Mom to fuck with me from the afterlife. Ghosts, spirits, messages from beyond\u2014so not my thing, but it was definitely her thing. Mom was witchy. She sold herb-infused candles and crystal dildos. Refurbished velvet love seats and vintage tees. Every moon, she saged my jeans and blessed my virgin bed with ginseng root until one day I finally snapped, \u201cI have done it, you know.<\/p>\n

You can stop now.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.<\/em><\/p>\n

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