By Brooklyn White ·Updated November 16, 2021
The gaze never lies. Awkward hands reveal nervousness; necks bent even slightly expose shame but eyes, whether surrounded by swollen, salmon-colored flesh, dusted around by tiredness’ signature charcoal or bright with youth untainted, are unacquainted with guile. When peering at the knowing eyes of viral monologist Elsa Majimbo, I confirm that our conversation will make no room for pretense.
Majimbo, 20, is comfortably perched in a black and
