Byline: Serena Alagappan

Leon/Levy

Forgiving and living after the Holocaust

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The Tat Cat

The tattoo artist on the corner of Davies Street says “Please.” “Please let me write something on your body.” After a while, the needle doesn’t even hurt, he promises, your skin just sort of goes numb. I look up at … Read More

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The Smell of Salt

“We rolled the shoes / over like small, still bodies.”

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Storyteller

“He had built a life before, and watched it fall apart.”

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Stained Glass

We always have so many things to do but time stilled in there, like the quiet between heartbeats.

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Nostalgia Architects

“With too much text to see or read, / I imagine the storm of a thousand paper cranes.”

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Telescoping Morning

“In the succeeding entries, we telescope our mornings by recounting and recasting. Each succeeding morning of a series is composed in exactly half the number of words of the previous. Diminish with us below.”

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The Sculptures that Surround Us

Brief descriptions of artistic objects you walk past on Princeton’s campus.

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A Prayer in Passing

“‘Would you like a prayer?'”

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Witness Theater

Art, trauma, and the Holocaust

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Atlantis

Where our voices meld shrill and sheepish at the same time, holding the bird that twitches, wings folded, eyes tight.

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Love According to Gabriel García Márquez

“Love is a breath, and a surprise, and the common space between two solitudes, and two bodies.”

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