The Bookery: Peter Mendelsund's "What We See When We Read"
Yesterday, as soon as I stepped onto the patio, my glasses steamed up. It finally rained, rendering the yard a jewel-green sauna, the...
The Week
Tuesday, 7/2/24 First thing I did was finish a book. I loved it so much that I left it on the patio to bake in the morning sun as if the...
The Bookery: Alana Saab's "Please Stop Trying to Leave Me"
“I was trapped there alone, watching the bald planets in every lonely galaxy spin for nothingness.” I never wanted to call it rising...
The Week
Tuesday, 6/25/24 Conemaugh means Otter in the Unami-Lenape language. Before heading back home from my parents, I stopped mid-way and rode...
The Bookery: Karl Ove Knausgaard's "Spring"
Art by Anna Bjerger “…to be alive is also to be always in the proximity of death.” In his books Autumn and Winter, Karl Ove Knausgaard...
The Week
Sunday, June 16th 2024 I wrote and deleted four different ways to portray myself as anxious in an entryway. First, I was an anxious...
The Night Will Dry It
I placed the watercolor brush in the mason jar of storm-colored water. Instead of taking the jar inside the house every day, I have been...
Terra Tenebris
I cut my toenails and pressed duct tape onto the bottom right side of my right foot. A seven-year-old injury rendered the foot immobile,...
Into the Under
I lift the lid of the large bucket and put my ear to the slick, wrinkling sound within it. Sometimes I close my eyes to mimic the slick,...
The Table
Throughout winter, my father likes to consistently remind me—as if it is newfound wisdom—that robins do not always migrate in the winter,...