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nesting days [feature]

For thousands of days, I have woken to birdsong. The street where I grew up is flush with trees, some a century thick, that provide home to robins, cardinals, house finches, and mourning doves cooing in the blue-black of early morning. These birds scatter in my wake on morning walks. They snip at each ...





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rewinding [feature]

At the sand-colored strip mall near my elementary school, wedged between the dry cleaners and ice cream parlor, was my sister and I’s childhood playground. On long summer days or rainy afternoons, my mother would park beneath the dusty sycamores and walk us across the asphalt to the glass storefront. ...

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mama, it's me
Post- Magazine

mama, it's me [feature]

On our second visit, Xiao Li tells us of a breakthrough: If you knot the top corners of the blanket around the first metal bar on each side of the bed, lao lao won’t get up at night. The contraption is simple: she tries to sit up, the blanket holds her down. With such little room between the mattress ...


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Post- Magazine

out of bloom [feature]

“They’re just trees; no more pictures!” whines a boy, maybe six years old, to his parents. He is much more invested in the line of ice cream trucks a few meters away than posing with the sakura. 


my aerophobia and i
Post- Magazine

my aerophobia and i [feature]

The cabin was dark. I sat amidst sleeping strangers and a baby crying nonstop. Maybe it was because everything from my hair to the provided blankets smelled like stale coffee that I sat wide awake, staring at the in-flight travel monitor—the only source of light in my vicinity. On the screen, a small ...


knowing love
Post- Magazine

knowing love [feature]

It is May of 1981. Tempo Magazine, one of Indonesia’s largest weekly newspapers, has just published an article about a wedding. “Their affections for one another are a little excessive, even in front of all their guests,” the author writes, seemingly amused. “Bonnie is pinching their ‘husband’s’ ...


family ties
Post- Magazine

family ties [feature]

As my mom reads off every name, my sister and I try our hardest to commit them to memory. We are six and eight years old, excitedly staring at the family tree in front of us. It is astonishing and extensive, with some very familiar names and others that I have only heard of as characters from my parents’ ...


these platonic loves.jpg
Post- Magazine

these platonic loves [feature]

This summer, I started journaling more consistently, generating list after list to wrangle my otherwise incoherent jumble of thoughts—favorite songs of the month, all-nighters ranked from most-bad to sorta-fun, top five core memories, most transformative friendships. I lingered on the last one longer ...


deserted
Post- Magazine

deserted [feature]

On my ninth birthday, my Grandpa Bill gifted me a copy of The Little Prince. I remember the cover with the blonde boy who stood amongst the stars, but I didn’t read the story until recently, when Bill sent a letter that reminded me of the image.



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