Category: Issue #14
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Girl Tree
Article coming soon…
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بيت (home)
We are forever tied together, wherever we are in this world.
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Supernatural
Photos by Joseph Priolo
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Pond Stone Phantoms
When you and I first met, you sounded the vowels of my name out—I warned you that my limbs may vanish in the last sung ‘a.’
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[Urdu]
He is almost gone, he does not tell anymore of the Partition
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I Don’t Know Exactly What A Prayer Is
By Sipora WestEdited by Ellena Lu and Alloe Mak I don’t know exactly what a prayer is. Mary Oliver’s verse reverberates in my mind as I cross my arms to protect against the biting Montreal chill. In front of me, a bed of white and red flowers covers the soil below which Bubbie and Zaide’s…
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Lamentation for the Labyrinth
Disarmed, another year folds upon itself. Trains, planes, and automobiles—your virile body—delivered you as far as the earth reaches.
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Hold Hands For Grace
On nights when I’m especially tired or feel a cold breeze through my hair, I close my eyes and see those grey walls with my mother’s curtains and lost time through my eyelids.
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Weight of Ash
He’s special, my son. My little Ethan, I want to take him somewhere special.
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Residual
The past didn’t haunt. It waited. And it stayed, long after everyone else had gone.
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Hideous Twins: on faith, fires, and facing truth
I experienced two major blows to my belief systems in my early life.
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To the Victor, Belongs Orientalism
In 1860, French and English troops stormed the Summer Palace in Beijing during the Second Opium War.
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April
I think I remember it pretty well?
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My Memory File Corrupted and I Forget What He Looked Like
By Aisha ZubairEdited by Alloe Mak You were supposed to be my salvation— But you left me alone with the things that crawl. I woke at sunrise, stayed past midnight, Fingers trembling, whispering, begging the shadows. You said you are a child. Remain childlike. So, I stayed small, ignoring the ache in my legs. I…
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A persona che mai tornasse al mondo
All had seemed but stillness to the unknown skies o’er head.
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Marshall P. Garrett: Wanted Dead or Alive
Lately, my dreams have become vivid recollections of my past failures.
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Hold My Hand
An interview and photo series dedicated to our past selves and their dreams of our current reality.
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the second death of queer ancestry
the echoes of my ancestors are screams. they are begging to be heard, needing to be heard.