Memories branch the past and present. Through four vignettes, this piece documents the continuities of life and the importance of revisiting and appreciating past experiences through olfaction.
Heartwarming
Poetry of the Night
A reading of two poems accompanied by videos, photos, and Flow.
Speaking on Queer Boricua YA Fauxmance and Family
For episode 6 of Speaking in First Draft, Mentee Jamilah Araf interviews Mentor Elle Gonzalez Rose about her debut novel Caught in a Bad Fauxmance.
Remembrance: An Index From My Grandmother
with moons. you taught me such cryptic languages.
I would spend the rest of my life decoding them.
Untitled
You do not expect
the kindness. It comes
in splashes, like an outpour
after a long drought.
pretty and warm and good
my walls stare at each other
in confusion, in uncertainty
of how to treat this unknown stranger
named kindness
Simple Recipe for Ten Minute Ginger Tea
frame family in doorway, huddled on charcoal couch,
ad break muted in favor of bad jokes, laughter
gentle–wait for the punchline to pour gush of warmth into mugs,
clink spoon to make sonorous honey hum
to mellow ginger buzz
Speaking on Brushing Up on Your Comedy (Literally)
In this episode, you’ll hear Mentor Tracy Morin, a magazine writer and editor, talk with Mentee Ava Fung, a high schooler from New York City, about her humorous non-fiction piece, “Toothache.”
Love Me, Lucky!
Though my dog brings great joy into my life, we have the ultimate incompatibility: different love languages. This piece is about the frustration of trying to cuddle with him and learning to accept our differences.
The Lessons of KuGong
An encounter with an old Chinese grandmother during a hot summer day shoveling compost in Brooklyn.
Resigned Lockheart
“What?! What do you mean I’m of royalty?”
There was me, in a tank top and jeans being accused of having some type of royalty blood in, I would not even fit being of royalty.
Full Body (Laughter)
Look me in the eyes when I laugh. Look at our Black bodies that aren’t just bodies and our Black laughter that will never know death, even when we do. Even if we do.
The Journal
A time jump into the future—my 46-year-old self revisits her old countryside home in Romania, where she used to spend her childhood summers. She finds an old journal of hers, uncovering deep memories.
Black Girls
A poem that tackles surface-layer Black characters and urges Black humanity.
Conversations
I am shy. I don’t seem like the shy type with my friends because I’m the loud one. But when I talk to someone who doesn’t know how I tick, I act like I’m listening while I am melting inside.