Monday 9 Oct 11:30am It’s a slow start to the day; I get out of bed way later than I intended to. I’ve just finished staffing BarMUN, the collegiate Model UN conference Boston University hosts every year. Although it was a fun weekend full of meeting new people and creating chaos (my personal idea of…
It’s the end of July, a turn of the earth reminding us that summer’s nearly over. Here in Boston, it’s a dire notion— the thought of an impending winter. The past month has been filled with beautiful weather and excursions galore, and I figured I’d share a bit of what I’ve loved over the weeks.…
At twenty, my grandfather tried a cigarette,
Twirling it between his fingers, watching it
Paint its temporary dance.
In the past I’ve always spoken to my parents in both English and Chinese, often at the same time, and whenever they spoke to me in Chinese, I would reply likewise. I swore to myself with childish disdain that I would never become one of the people who only reply in English. I am now…
To think there was a time in which I knew
I felt this way, a rush too lonesome for
The joyous pain that they all seem to sell,
A constant doubt that it was real, a flame,
You’re lying on your bedroom floor, ten years old in the sixth grade, lazily paging through one of those historical novels you used to love. Your mother calls for you, and you yell back rudely, without even getting up to see what’s the matter. Your siblings are causing some ruckus in the room next door,…
Last week, I turned nineteen, which – according to several friends – is the most boring age one can turn.
It’s August. You’re on the brink of thirteen, and it’s really far too late to do anything significant before you enter the infamous teen years, but you’re going to try anyway, just like you have in nearly everything else thus far.
In memory of Soverskan på Oknö
He watched as his sister’s dimpled knuckles
Were filled with slender threads of bone
If by chance I found myself alone,
I would convince myself that I was free;