A New Season
“He’s slipping from me,” I said, and I knew I was crying about more than this.
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Join NOW!“He’s slipping from me,” I said, and I knew I was crying about more than this.
...moreReveal yourself. Reveal yourself. You cannot be dead. Reveal yourself.
...moreWhen I spoke Korean, I unearthed a hidden thread that bound us together.
...moreFew people can tell that my smile is literally fake.
...moreImagine a man looking at the artist looking at the art at the party.
...moreI’m struck by a horrifying thought: they’ll stop only if I crash.
...morePorochista Khakpour discusses her new memoir, Sick, the difficulty of receiving good medical care, and the blessing of online community.
...moreThey had begun studying memory hoping to find a cure for Alzheimer’s, the doctor explains. But instead, they found other results.
...moreOnce there was a little parrot and she carried one drop of water at a time in a leaf she held in her beak. I forget who she was carrying the water to.
...moreAmerica: land where anything can and does happen. Doors blow open by magic when you step on a rubber mat.
...moreI imagine the box of obsidian flakes and chunks at home—gathered from explorations in the desert. Their edges cut through skin, draw blood.
...moreFrom the tender age of eight, Jennifer Colville has known herself to be a visual artist.
...moreI’ve spent twenty years searching for the girl in the black shorts with a cold can of soda pop in her hand as though going through the steps of locating a lost wallet.
...moreOctavio is tired, tired of trying to separate what he remembers so vividly from the memories he can barely make out in the fog.
...morePoverty may have been beloved of St. Francis, but not so much by the rest of us. Nobody likes to look at advanced poverty, toothless and drooling, clutching the hands of children who have running sores on their filthy legs. Poverty is a crackhead who pisses on the pavement, and sleeps with fleas and stray […]
...moreI don’t use the term “lifelong hero” frivolously. There are a lot of people I respect and wish to emulate; Annie Lennox, however, is the only “lifelong hero” I’ll ever have. I need her.
...moreBy drawing us into his childhood, Maxwell shows us how to revisit our own. We become the storytellers of our own lives.
...moreAnd this is the majesty of William Trevor. He creates—and at the same time affirms—the dark we’ve all got inside us. He gives our nightmares flesh.
...more“You can’t hold on to the past,” Elif once told me. “You don’t know how. You don’t know what to keep, what to throw away. So you keep it all. And you can’t do that. No one can.”
...moreFaith is about action, Professor Wiesel said that day. Faith is about what you do with that faith. Belief in God is to do, not to accept. So always the question: what can we do?
...moreHe only knew that the Blazer, like the green card, was something he wanted my brother and me to have, so that we knew we deserved things, things like America.
...moreBut I didn’t understand, then, how important memory is, for how do we know who we are without memory? How does anyone else know who we are, but for their memories of us?
...moreCountering our culture’s disregard for all things elderly, comics have become a medium of choice for celebrating the lives of our oldest and wisest generation. Bird in a Cage (Conundrum Press, 2016) joins a growing roster of graphic novels about the elderly that explore how much they are loved, how rich and complicated their lives are, and […]
...moreMark Leyner discusses his new novel, Gone with the Mind, about a failed novelist, Mark Leyner, who gives a reading to his mom in an almost-deserted food court.
...moreI wonder if in absence I will now come to conflate him with the character I’ve drawn. Or with the character I’m drawing now.
...more[S]ometimes you don’t know you’re experiencing a fairytale until years later.
...moreJason had his dragon at Colchis, Theseus had his Minotaur on Crete, Odysseus had his cannibals in their city of Telepylos, and you will have found your own monsters in Philadelphia.
...moreBecause that’s how it is with sisters. You are them. You are not them. You are broken shards from the same pane of glass, each reflecting a different light.
...moreIn the latest installment of The Toast’s “unglamorous series about DUIs and drinking problems,” Rebecca Pederson relates everything she remembers about being hit by an intoxicated driver while crossing the street one night. It’s remarkable not just for the inherent horror of the events (“I heard my skull crack before I felt it”) but also […]
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