“Love is a breath, and a surprise, and the common space between two solitudes, and two bodies.”
by Serena Alagappan on May 5, 2018May 5, 2018
Sign language stories in Barnes and Nobles.
by Serena Alagappan on October 10, 2016October 15, 2016
Forgiving and living after the Holocaust
by Serena Alagappan on December 11, 2016July 21, 2017
“With too much text to see or read, / I imagine the storm of a thousand paper cranes.”
by Serena Alagappan on December 8, 2019December 8, 2019
Brief descriptions of artistic objects you walk past on Princeton’s campus.
by Alex Jacobson, Andrew White, Mina Quesen, Serena Alagappan, Tess Solomon on November 17, 2019
“Small items, their lightness measured by just how many/you can lose and not notice. Imagine if we tucked/all the stinging things to our chests and rocked them quiet.”
by Serena Alagappan on November 11, 2018December 11, 2018
“I slipped two hotels into my pockets; I slept with some under my pillow that night, and the little silver piece I put in my sock for the day.”
by Serena Alagappan on October 8, 2017October 8, 2017
“‘Would you like a prayer?'”
by Serena Alagappan, Tom Hoopes on May 8, 2017March 6, 2018
Art, trauma, and the Holocaust
by Serena Alagappan on November 13, 2016
“Or maybe you are stuck staring at the sun, a gap / in the clouds, a yolk poked and spreading in the sky.”
by Serena Alagappan on July 31, 2019July 31, 2019
A eulogy to an artist, a father, a husband and a man whose memories live on with his family.
by Serena Alagappan on September 30, 2018September 29, 2018
Context:
Verbatim:
Bot check: What is the name of the farthest residential college from central campus?
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