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The title of Maggie O'Farrell's memoir, I am, I am, I am: Seventeen Brushes with Death channels the author's inner Sylvia Plath, the title being a direct quote from her novel, The Bell Jar. The Irish native author captures every instance in her life where she almost died, in her words, where she "brushed" death. It's …
Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng reads like flipping through a photo album that's worn, burnt at the edges, and holds all of the sophistication of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel, while intertwining with the racial discrimination issues and societal expectations we deal with in our world today, while at the same time redefining the beauty …
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Nobody asks me anymore – Have you ever been in love? They know the answer already. A bitter, distant stare, a “no” Spilling out before their tongue Gets to the letter “e”. That’s all that can be said In one breath, not even anymore Can I give an, “I wish” or a “Someday” – those …
The cool stones were damp from evening rain and the golden light of the Piazza bounced off of shallow puddles. The soothing moon kept watch over the city. We sat on a bench, my friends and I, soaking it in with dormant phones switched off in our pockets and melting gelato in our hands. A …
co·in·ci·dence kōˈinsədəns/ noun plural noun: coincidences 1. a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection. Do you believe in fate? In the idea that all around us there are small miracles, signs even – from the universe or some sort of power? Or are they just coincidences - things that happen "without …
At 1:23 AM Stars just out of reach behind the blinds Cold dark earth beyond thin walls She's craving to feel, craving something That will push her too close. Too close to what she fears the most. The computer's glow keeps her eyes wide Much brighter than the light from outside. Tossing and turning …
I. Isabella peeked through the plastic blinds beside her bed, squinting her eyes at the blinding white world confronting her. Snow mingled with the city street outside, each speck of pavement and loose piece of trash slowly began to disappear. Quickly grabbing her Polaroid, she captured the blanketing snow. The photograph developed. The emerging brightness …
She found comfort in dusty bookcases And windowpanes streaked with rain droplets, Racing each other to pool at the bottom. Tea residue at the bottom of her favorite mug And cheap cracked CD cases, Handed down from her parents. The protection of overgrown hair And wooden floorboards covered in perfect messes, Of over-worn …
She whispered to herself, Hold on to the moments that bring An uncontrollable tear to your eye. Capture them, keep track of them. String them together with words. Give meaning to moments and let them live. Breathe air into the lungs of words and Piece together the indescribable. Every goosebump, tear, and shiver-provoking …
Start with roses and shiny boxes of chocolate, Maybe glasses of bubbly champagne and fresh strawberries. But don’t leave me alone in that liminal glow - Our hearts fresh and unknown. Take me deeper. Bring me wildflowers and a book picked just for me. Perhaps a bottle of red wine from 1983, Covered in storytelling …
such sweet things 