“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen….
And also…
God,
Please, please, please,
give me big …
Is it even possible to explain why you like something? And I don’t mean explaining why it’s cool, but why, over everything else people love in this world, you love what you do.
Bea was running late. She hoped it came off like a cute girl-next-door personality trait, like she’d show up all frazzled, tripping over her words, a little out of breath, her cheeks flushed and her smile wider than ever, like, I’m here, I rushed all the way here just for you.
To those of us who lived in Europe at the time, photos of Independence Square were immediately recognizable. They represented shared wounds and terrifying possibilities for the near future.
I can safely sit here, two days after turning 20, and tell you that you will be okay. You aren’t sure that you’re even going to make it to see yourself graduate high school--let alone make it through the pandemic that’s coming--but please believe me when I say that you will.
It’s November in Brighton Beach. A creature with five arms walks by the water. It has eyes in place of hands. Its skin glitters in the sun. Today, it is searching—always searching.
A fictional museum exhibit spins a narrative from documents related to a money transfer end of the Fatimid caliphate. The interpretation casts history as an institution that permanently exists in the present.