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Letter From The Editor
Dear friends, Antoine Roquentin stared at the roots of a tree and thought about his own superfluity, denied and generated simultaneously the concept of existence. My own mind is a little limited in comparison; I stare at something I hope to understand and, over time, my thinking degenerates. I wonder how my dog with…
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Proof of Life
“Since then, I’ve begun to feel slightly disturbed, certainly more so than I used to, when these flashes of the outside world get through the gates. An antenna had sprouted out of my skull, sending surges of electricity through my nerves whenever it detected an aberration.”
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I Let Myself Fall
“They will dig at our bones as we did the dinosaurs’. And when they find yours and my bones twisted up in each other, they will create a great creature out of us.”
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The Soul Before Style
From the universal lettering of Bauhaus to Gaga dance, on art as silent revolution.
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Cherry
“Without telling her mother, Antonia bought her first Summer Fridays after a tanless summer spent marinating in a boardwalk pizza shop with dough-crusted fingernails and a horrendous lime green apron, getting tipped in pennies and the occasional seashell.”
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Chats
“Suppose Father had gone to heaven. Wasn’t he born there, then, again? Every birth, thus, was a death. A death from nothingness.”
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Surviving Suburbia: Places Worth the Uber Ride
In suburbia, there isn’t much to do except go out to eat. Here are some spots a little further from campus that are worth the fifteen-dollar Uber.
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Still Race
A burgundy ant scampers along an iron windowsill, weaves manically around bits of old dust as if they’re skyscrapers. Dust picks up, sometimes, when the train car door opens. Makes me sneeze. Take a bite from my organic wrap – hand-packed the way my mother does it. Her mother would wrap grape leaves around loaves…