Category: Reflections

2 Stories

What am I supposed to do? I want you to tell me. I want you to tell me what am I supposed to do. Before you answer, I’ll tell you my story, and I’ll tell you hers. And then, I … Read More

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The Night Bus

As the Umatter bus passes Tower, it is stopped by a man standing in the middle of the street.  His arms are spread out above him and he’s staring into the sky as if deep in prayer.

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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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Sallow and Muted Glory

A reflection on faith and body.

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Jared Garland

Call me Moses Goldstein. You won’t be wrong. Say it and I’ll turn around, look back at you out of the corner of my eye, smile a bit and raise an eyebrow at you coyly, because I’m a coy guy, and—of course—that is my name.

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Labor Day

Put me to sleep when September starts. Also, fold my white linen carefully, please.

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40.36° South 105.3° East

You have walked through FitzRandolph Gate, and you will never graduate. You keep walking until you hit the shore.

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Rebuilding

After the flood, a reflection on a healing state.

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Morning in Seven Glimpses

“Evening stays in the sheets as Morning rises barefoot to set the kettle and run cold water down her neck.”

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In Defense of Sports

Wherein the writer defends one of our greatest national obsessions.

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Scenes from Petey Greene (Part 1)

Maybe it’s just the New Jersey weather or the tint of the van’s windows but it seems like it’s always foggy when I drive to Garden State, a sprawling correctional complex whose hallways I’ve walked through without ever really managing to glean the building’s external shape. We always drive towards it from the same side. Inside the hallways shoot off from rounded enclosure where the guards sit like identical grayish-beige spokes from a wheel. Sometimes it’s hard to find my way out because everything looks the same.

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And Love of Unseen Things

A profile of a gardener on Princeton’s campus.

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