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the Father, the son, and the spirit of performative feminism [A&C]
By Sofie Zeruto | March 19*Spoilers for The White Lotus Season 2
reconciling with “social death” [A&C]
By Johan Beltre | March 19“It’s my fault / The way I broke the Earth / It’s my fault,” ANOHNI yearns repeatedly over a blanket of mellow guitar riffs. It’s an intimate moment that comes straight from the soul, exploring her positionality in society through music. The sultriness of her voice finds shelter in the acceptance ...
on "bi-non-practicing" [feature]
By Ivy Rockmore | March 19I take a rest on the oily, heat-stained seats of the L Train to Brooklyn. My feet tingle after the long summer walk to the station, buoyancy enveloping my limbs. I feel the body heat of a close friend from Brown next to me. She sports jorts. Classic. A navy tank top and rose-gold jewelry, too. She is ...
things i haven’t done yet [post-pourri]
By Francis Gonzalez | March 19I’ve been meaning to get my screen protector changed for months now. It’s cracked beyond belief—still usable, but the unevenness of the glass skews the front camera’s lighting. I’ve never put one on myself, though. I wait for my dad to do it. Maybe I haven’t bought one yet because I’m ...
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how to teach a child to play the piano [lifestyle]
By Ishan Khurana | March 191.) Find a piano.
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the cards will hand it to you [lifestyle]
By Zoe Park | March 19Make two wishes and say one of them aloud.
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listen to where it tenders [narrative]
By Gabrielle Yuan | March 19I practice curling my tongue, enunciating, moving my mouth in unfamiliar directions. The sounds of the spoken language ring true—I grew up listening to my mother tell me Chinese folktales of a woman stranded on the moon for infinity, or hovering above my shoulder to reprimand me for my poorly drawn ...
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here’s to peace—and those who get in the way of it [A&C]
By Sara Harley | March 12Palm to forehead, mouth agape, and wiping away my tears with a blanket, I have never had such a physically emotional response to a television show as the first time I watched Fleabag. The mini-series is a one-two punch: What begins as a comedy about the owner of a guinea pig cafe twists into a meditation ...
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everything is everything [A&C]
By Ishan Khurana | March 12Fish don’t exist. It’s quite a simple concept, though I suppose I should elaborate.
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home sweet home [feature]
By Francis Gonzalez | March 12“Do you wanna see his finger?” My friend reaches into his pocket to grab his phone, grinning like we’re talking about high school drama.
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continue without storage? [lifestyle]
By Jedidiah Davis | March 12In the basement of my house are stacks of boxes full of my family’s precious photo albums. These cardboard treasure chests contain records that chronicle the histories of my parents, my siblings, and me, yet I’m not privy to them. They’ve remained sealed away, safe but untouched, for as long as ...
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why do writers twist the knife? [feature]
By Nahye Lee | March 12In my Intro to Creative Nonfiction class, I wrote about my grandmother for my first piece. I wrote about her because she was dead, and nothing comes more naturally than remembering a person who no longer exists.
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these walls remember [narrative]
By Jedidiah Davis | March 12Houses are living things. Maybe not quite as sentient as Encanto’s Casita or the literal living house in Monster House, but they have hearts—a pulse beating through the pipes, a unique personality built into the walls, memories ingrained in the foundation. There's credence to the saying, home is ...
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which thayer street restaurant are you? [lifestyle]
By Daphne Cao | March 12In the midst of midterms, it’s always nice to take a break and hit up one of Thayer’s many beloved restaurants to unwind. Whether you’re looking for a boba break, a quick bite, or something more upscale, this street’s got you covered.
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unrooted [narrative]
By Helen Xie | March 12I stand in the kitchen of my off-campus apartment, staring at the lumpy sack of Japanese sweet potatoes on the counter. The shape is wrong. They are smaller than the ones Mom buys from the Asian Food Markets back home, their skin covered in little scabs as if they’ve made a hard journey to get here. ...
