A man walks into the needle exchange.
Sounds like the start of a joke, doesn’t it.
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Sculptor Dr Gindi, explores the human soul’s yearning for infinity through her artwork. Her latest sculpture Meandering Souls captures one moment in the soul’s journey: the tender moment between longing ...
He reminded me of a teacher I’d had in grad school, who emphasized focusing on an image of a butterfly flying away as I played.
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“When I step into the Redwood Grove of the Arboretum, I enter a different world.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “Walking in the Arboretum” by Jane Beal.
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“My heart rate has been normal and steady since then. Until this trip.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “Hospitality” by Wendy Lane.
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“I hold onto the romantic notion of the cairn as an act of love.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “On Moving West and Back Again” by Carrie Esposito.
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“The prospect of injecting something new into work, even if only the setting and the company, delighted me.” Today’s #EssaySaturday is “Workation in Ojai” by Hantian Zhang.
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“The two of us have started to see hands everywhere, like a clumsy metaphor.” Today’s #EssaySaturday UK is “Human Fish” by Niamh Riordan.
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I briefly look up from my frantic journaling, glancing at the cloud cover out the window.
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I stood from the cot next to the shared wall. My mom leaned in close to hear you. Another crash. Furniture scraping against the floor. We listened to someone’s heavy ...
Photo by Paola Rizzi
“The more resolutely you plumb the question, ‘Who or what am I?’ – the more unavoidable is the realisation that you are nothing…apart from everything else.”
-Alan W. ...
It’s a pet (cemetery) sematary and there are two more like this in Kyiv.
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A personal memoir about growing up in ’80s London as the child of a Greek Cypriot immigrant. It encapsulates the dichotomy between an identity that forced upon the author, and ...
Unquestionably, my husband was right; there were and still are many things wrong with me. On top of my empty-nest crisis and puppy training, I live with chronic pain. ...
The pool of glowing crimson collecting under it, traces of the life my father had taken, stained the floor for months. It was an art, he said. ...
I rocked back and forth, still holding onto the headrest, singing those lyrics, whether it was the chorus or verse or that freaky middle part with the wailing ...
But I didn’t swim and when we were all settled back around the fire, it seemed as if the shame clung wetly to me as we all dried off. ...
I still maintained the faint desire to have a go in the ring and it remained an unfulfilled ambition.
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The singer shuffles onto stage and it’s like seeing an old family friend who hasn’t been around for a while. His face is getting lined and his stage presence is ...
How accurate is the information we receive via wikipedia, anyway?
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