Time is a rainbow
gestating in the stale air,
a forgotten vow,
a winter song
that wavers in the etherized silence;
its long arc bends
toward a dusky fie...
On my desk sit two plants. On the left, a swiss cheese plant I picked up at Brattle Street Florist with waxy leaves and elliptical holes. On the right, a dying...
In his Confessions, St. Augustine famously wrote, “Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.” We all ha...
Sensible shoes, newly purchased Harvard shirts, and the placebo shutter of a smartphone camera… I’ve become part of the photographable attraction for yet anoth...
Dmitri Dmitrich Gurov leads a double life. The protagonist of Anton Chekhov’s short story The Lady with the Dog stretches himself between two places. In Moscow...
The Bible is a book about wine. Water and wine, to be more precise. Wine, the most versatile and refined alcohol, and water, the most salutary chaser. Called t...
Sometimes, I take a longer route home from class just so that I can walk past the north side of Emerson Hall. Engraved in neat lettering above the brick column...
"god i thank you that i am not likeunrighteous solomon fell for womenshe made the man eat from the tree her psych-ology deceptive and fleeting thereinthe troub...
In those days my mind was soft and my memories had no first and no last. I only knew that I was myself and I was young—and I knew that I was there. I remember ...
