Each and every writing from Nadia de Vries gets stuck under your skin, like a tiny pixel, and then wrestles its way out. Her poetry is a cross between chat-room brevity and Minecraft-inspired romanticism. Mimicking the immaterial quality of online identities, Nadia invokes vampires, magic fruit, living dolls, ghosts and shadows, with a sharp critique of stereotyped relationships. Poking fun at sickness, lassitude, abandonment and death, poetry feels like a truly sensible endeavour and a space to direct anger toward. Echoing phrasings from memes and social media, ruptures.