At the start of school, everyone said they had moved out of their homes to come to Rhode Island. I didn't move much. Two suitcases: a few sweaters, sheets, New Balances, a bottle of wine that was finished in a week. Toiletries. My home was in Connecticut. It was close, so close that I didn't bring much. ...
I was on a bike ride down the hill. It was finally getting colder. It felt like I had pennies in the back of my throat. I shivered in my unzipped coat and slowed as it parachuted larger. But the incline pitched steeper, and I kept pedaling. I wanted to see how fast I could go.
My sister called me last week, but I didn't pick up. She texted that she wanted to talk. But then I forgot.
My grandparents came to Providence last weekend. Truth is, I was scared to see them. On Saturday, they had said they would drive through on Sunday, so I cleared my schedule to be with them.
When I first saw my housing assignment in August, I had no idea what I was in for: I only knew I'd live in Everett-Poland. But what is it? One dorm? Two? And what is Keeney? I vaguely remembered Keeney from ADOCH (my tour group got lost in its halls), but…Everett-Poland?
Since May 2020, the Pandemic Journaling Project has been collecting journal entries, audio samples and photographs from participants across the globe about life during the COVID-19 pandemic. On Feb. 15, Katherine Mason and Sarah Willen, associate professors of anthropology at Brown and the University ...
After coming to Providence, my cosmic "I" turned atomic. It happened when I started to say goodbye to my grandmother and when my younger brother went on his first date. My life started to look like a page of words I couldn't read.
Solutions by The State News
