A nameless young woman organizes her life in columns of words. As the columns widen, she unwinds. Often times, she finds herself thinking about when she will t be able to think in straight lines, detailing the parts of her life that seem to lead to the next parts, and yet she struggles to find continuity within each piece. The young woman is existential, questions her being, and steps away just far eugh to see - and feel - what life is, whether it is in her relationships, her recent entry into the nine-to-five world, her past or her present. She experiences what most unkwingly do: the disconnect between self and reality, paired with the feeling of anxiety, as though she is standing at the edge of the bed she laid waiting to see if something will grab her from underneath. This is her unraveling. This is the space between. These are the things left unsaid... this is her ellipsis.
Laura Pavlo writes best once the sun has gone down. She believes in the ellipsis because there is always something more to say. She studies English and Art at an east coast university because art is everything she can't say and English is everything she can. Some of her poetry is published and her graphic design work is often times found scattered across her university's campus. One day she hopes to publish at least one full-length novel, although she plans on publishing more than that, depending on how well the publishing economy is doing when she does so. Wish her luck, because who doesn't need it?