Lovebird 1: I’ll be your shark
Lovebird 2: I’ll be your grim reaper
Overheard in a disturbingly public area
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Keeping Princeton Cemetery Alive Through the Seasons
SPRING On one day you may come across a trumpet fanfare heralding a US president; on another, a woman meditating cross-legged under a tree; and perhaps on Halloween, the touch of a phantom hand. Rows of neatly arranged headstones stand next to the boulevard of trees stretching softly into the sky. Now and then you…
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Closest to the Solution: The Story and Legacy of Princeton’s Prison Teaching Initiative
A Second Look writer speaks with formerly incarcerated students, PTI educators, and Princeton administrators about the resilience of the program
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Q&A: Eliza Griswold on Journalism in a New Trump Era
A Pulitzer-Prize-winning professor talks electoral reporting and the journalistic horizon
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The Ripple Effect: Yue Yin’s Eras of Creation
A Nass writer reconsiders the classical recounts her experience working with a celebrated choreographer at the Princeton Dance Festival
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I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight: Full Design
The sun is setting, and the Nass is getting out of here. We still have a few tricks up our sleeve.
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Having a Childhood Dog May Improve Your Health
A Nass writer works out how early interspecies contact might improve immune system development
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The Lobby Prince
“No price is listed on the website. I’m reminded of one of my mother’s more pessimistic maxims: sometimes, if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.”
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At the movies
Tissue paper face held over a match. Night dangles from rafters, perfume chemicals burn. Daylight burns like faces on the screen skin-soft, bleached and bloody. Picture this: grey background, rose buds flailing. Narrow angles abstract and brief as lips on neck. Later only rainy weather.
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Lag Time Blues
The week before the United States general election, we solicited short-form narrative nonfiction submissions from the Nassau Weekly community. We hoped to gather and serialize scenes, images, and glimpses from Election Day and the following week. We asked writers to tag their reflections with a date and time in an attempt to track the progression…
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Partir C’est Mourir un Peu
“Her grandmother had taken her to a psychiatrist once. She was seven years old at the time, and it had been the first Monday of the school year.”
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Sacramento, 2018
The sidewalk outside is wet. So is my swing hanging from the orange tree branches, and my pink boots by the door that hurt. I like to draw the same picture over and over, a different bedroom from mine scratched out in blue pen. At night I turn into branches and leaves and things…
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it is late october and i thought i was falling in love three weeks ago
(There’s something off about this moment, a beauty mark on the day. I’m feeling small and alone, far away from home and homesick for my car.) it is late october and a discarded napkin swirls in the wind, imitating a fallen leaf. it is late october and the girl who i wanted to fall…
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Sentence Starters
We haven’t learned the right tense: the cliché of red leaves falling, your choice of hazelnut cold foam atop my cold brew, that dead squirrel we mourned for because despite the newborn tents we couldn’t have brought her back. Why would she want to? Live for a while then die, like crunchy leaves, like us,…