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  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    She didn’t know how to start it. She hadn’t picked up the pen in so long. It felt like a piano that was out of tune whispering chords that were just out of the grasp of her memory. It was sad that it had been reduced to this. Something that was once her passion was now a forgotten object in the...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    Now she knew it, she knew the feeling of utter desolation. It was terrifying, that knowledge that if she fell, there would be no one to catch her. Everyone had failed her, left her drowning. There was only one thing to do: erect walls, pull up the drawbridge, and ready the archers. This was war, eve...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The distant drone of engines set the stage. The station was quiet yet restless. The few waiting for the subway tapped their fingers, their feet, and anything else within reach. There was a feel of tension in the air, as if there were a storm brewing in the air, right out of reach. Quiet murmurs inte...
  • Nonfiction > Travel & Culture
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    Walking down the street, you don't know how it happens – but it just happens. You're in the Qato'rtol bazaar. Looking back, there is no clear boundary where the street shops end and the bazaar begins. It's chaos, and it's beautiful. In front you see the archways – the entrance to the bazaar ...
  • Opinion > Discrimination
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    I’m ushered into the dimly lit room. On all four walls hang exquisitely decorated costumes. They tell me the bride made all of these herself. That’s a lot of work for one person to do. We are motioned to sit down on the carpet. I can smell the pungent odor of lamb fat, sweat, and cheap perfume a...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    The wind blows, but we cannot see. The treetops rock to the silent song. The wind blows, but we cannot see, The reeds sway to the mute beat. The wind blows, but we cannot see, The kites dance to the quavering call. The wind blows, but we cannot see, The grass bow to the overwhelming flo...
  • Poetry > Ballad
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    Deep breath, deep breath All will be okay Please say that death Is gone; she's run away. Eyes of gold have lost their shine, No fire bright will ignite mine. On a caravel he's gone, How will I ever carry on? No hand to hold When I am cold. No love to share Without him there...
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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