A Mother's Touch
Please click this link to read Sachin's short story! Artist Statement A matter of great interest and import to me as a student, reader,...
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Andy Han
The Lobster
Look at that! private beachfront equity! their own decks! my dad said. A beat. Their own decks! on the beach! You’ve said that five times...
David Yang
remembering my grandmother
My grandmother hated cooking. But every day, without fail, for over a decade, I’d come home from school to find my favorite foods waiting...
Muriel Alejandrino
In Between Dilemma
“Naiitindihan mo ba?” my relatives ask. Do you understand? To which I always reply, “Conte lang!” with a grin on my face, proud of myself...
Zyad Sibai
Escape or Suffocate
TW: Story of depression and suicide. My resonance with the word “depression” rings high and loud during my lows, feeling like a soul tie...
Zyad Sibai
Matrix
An intentional masterpiece. An invisible scaffold. An algorithmic matrix. It’s everywhere. We don’t see it, we don’t care to see it....
Anonymous
Curated Copypastas
I have a morning ritual that I need to share. I call it "the terminator". First I crouch down in the shower in the classic "naked...
Anonymous
Bulls in a China Shop
He touched you wrong. You forgot about it. He touched your mind and stayed for some time. You saw him and the fire in your mind grew. He...
Saomai Phuong Nguyen
Morning Star
SAOMAI My first school assignment was in kindergarten. My task was to go home and ask my parents about the meaning of my name. They...
Brendan Ly
Stop Looking
The boy stood watching, his feet shaking slightly, but his eyes entranced by what lay before him. Sweat streamed down his face as another...
Anonymous
[untitled]
“When an Australian girl wants to come to Vancouver for Exchange, she’s assuming that she’ll get a Canadian experience. I’m not saying...
Ally Huang
Yinyaoyao
My parents tell me that in the car on the drive home from Costco I started to cry. Started to sing on repeat yinyaoyao, yinyaoyao,...
Kat Lin
A reclamation
By: Kat Lin I was born branded — cloaked in the dirty yellows of the Mekong, and smeared with the reds of revolution. Histories I still...
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