New York: A Portrait [2]

And I thought to myself, “how does the Brooklyn bridge hold?” A thousand days running through nine-fold sinew stretched taut expanding                  contracting expanding                                              contracting muscle holding everything together. how we have worked…

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New York: A Portrait [1]

it ends with desire and begins with departure. We forage to fix an appetite for finality and numb the pain of loss for it has settled into our joints and we are desperate to scrape its poison off the bone. amnesia is necessary in such pain-flecked procedure and vision blurs into bright lights and a…

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Gradations of Us

i don’t believe in the “soulmate”… …and i think we short-sell our relationships with friends and family when we conjure up a romantic, fantastical individual whose self is significant because it fits into the jagged edges of our own. no. perhaps it is a simple matter of discovering that people in this world are connected…

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The saddest word in English.

My wandering through Tumblr led me to a post called, six word story #49: The saddest word in English, “Stay”. I was arrested by the phrase, and I can surely attest, it is quite possibly the saddest word I know. The very nature of its utterance involves a desperation nobody wants to experience, but everybody…

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What Dreams Are Made Of

It is that exciting time of the year where the mature chicklets begin to spread their newfound wings and hop off the branches of university into the deep blue above. As the friends around me begin to speak of the future, my fledgling self is also impatient to join them in the exciting buildup to…

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