Byline: Lara Katz

A Good Morning

“She left her feet behind in bed, tucking them in/like children.”

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Giving, Going; Living, Loving

“Everyday she grew older. This obvious fact had never seemed obvious before.”

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Telescoping Space

To telescope, we begin with 300 words, then slice the word count in half for each successive section. We stop when the numbers stop dividing evenly. Looking around and beyond us, this week we telescope “space.”

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On Deciding Not To Live In A Literal Castle

A first-year student wrestles with the decision to stay at home in a semester with so many students on campus.

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In Heat

“my body / remembering / it exists, unmoored, / metamorphosing, moistening / peeling lips.”

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First, Nothing

“Let yourself age. Let time press through your skeleton like water, dribbling through your pores, let it sing right through your bones…”

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The Story about a War and Some Other Things

“Anyway, I’ve heard stories are supposed to have morals. I don’t know if this is much of a story, really, but I’ll give it a moral anyhow.”

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Telescoping Rhythm

In the succeeding entries, we telescope “rhythm.” Sonically evocative and personally connotative, we examine the word in its multiplicity of meanings.

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In Kognito

On the failures of the mental-health training program for Princeton first years.

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Proud, Lifeless, And Very Much Clean

“He is desperate for his dinner, too hungry to say hello, … he laments his work, his employer, his cold-footed commute, … he grinds his teeth at our rationed mutton and yet—the frugal bastard—gives me nothing, nothing, not a penny to spare.”

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