You are supposed to get some sort of information here, in this section. Something you wouldn't have otherwise gotten by opening up this book and bravely moving beyond the table of contents. This collection of poems and works, that I presume you have already read, has taken me a long time to put together. It is an organized look into the unorganized thoughts that keep me together. Rosalia S Ra-Sebek has completed her literal journey having walked in parks, through valleys and shadows. At times the walks felt like suffering crawls. She has not received any literary awards, nor has she received any other award or accolade for her writing outside of the birth of her daughter. She stems from the Lower East Side of Manhattan, a glorified Tupac Shakur cliché (a Rose that grew from concrete). During the latch-key era, she sunk into her solitude and cultivated a hunger for freedom that would allow her to reach outside of four walls and all windows, right into the ethers where Piñero’s ashes baptized her imagination.