Category: Reflections

Barry

Barry (whose name has been changed for this article) is a gangly kid who looks to be somewhere in that stretch of late adolescence characterized by patchy moustaches. In another world, Barry, gregarious and talkative, would be captain of his school’s debate team, or maybe a theater major. He is funny and he knows it.

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The Earl of Knuckle Sandwich

Someone punched me in the face.

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The Short, Implanted Grass

The first time I met Leah, she was reading an evolutionary biology textbook in a tree in the Mathey courtyard. As the weather grew warmer in the spring, I began to see her there almost constantly. One day, I decided to overcome my aversion to aerated New Jersey soil and sharp acorns, and joined her reading session.

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Perfect Places

“What is it about Eastern Europe that makes underage, emotionally vulnerable people think those harmful, dangerous thoughts? What is it about Eastern Europe that I still, despite all of this, miss so very much?”

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Coming Out to Christ

I am sixteen years old and sitting in a church pew and I am committing an act of defiance.

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Goody Bag

On grandma’s food scraps, preserved with care.

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Gibraltar, an odd dream

For one last time during my two-month stay in Spain, I arrived at the Estepona bus station and sat on the metal bench outside with holes that always leave a circle mark on the back of my thighs. As I … Read More

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Empty Spaces

“Even though I said that I wanted to fill in all this empty space around me, I’ve also come to realize that I need some space to be empty.”

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Suburbia in 8

A hometown reflection

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I’m Judging You: Gogol’s Defense of Art Critique

“Gogol advocated that we do not need to reject value-judgements, but rather understand all art as part of a grander movement; great art is the product of labor and reflection, vision and passion, building off the works that precede it.”

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First-Year Reflections

The Nass’s Annual Collection of First-Year Reflections

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Without Even Kissing

Thinking of you is like touching a dead bird: I know it can’t hurt me but I recoil for fear that somehow it might touch me back.

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