1. During Sibelius’ Symphony #2, horses gallop on distant pastures. Waves lift the reeds and muscles trade with trembling strings. I smell leather. Hollows fill and water splashes from hoof-beats.…
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1. The Washington Square Park rangers were hammering away at beige boards near the famous arch, as I pushed my older daughter Anna through the park in her new,…
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My grandmother, my mother, myself—we are a daisy chain of readers, a coil of translators, a broken chain of writers. My grandmother, Margherita, would pounce on the romances published serially…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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Last night, I walked towards the street of the home where we used to live. I got as far as the curb across from our stoop, then had to sit…
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Creative Nonfiction / EssayCultureFeaturedWhite Carpet on the Back Stairs: Blackface, Whiteness, and My Virginia Childhood
Image Credit: Kiernan Lofland . . . to become white in the South is to absorb some large part of its particular iteration of the U.S. racial hierarchy.…
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On Cicadas, Silence, and Japanese Poetry Home My childhood memories of summer are also accompanied by the drone of a cicada, my Southern Maryland home shared with roughly…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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The fog is thicker as we drop in elevation. I sit down on the snow to fix her goggles; I admire her: rosy lips, white-blond hair coming out from under…
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I had no alternative; I was trapped by language. – Amitav Ghosh, In An Antique Land In early 2009, carrying nine school semesters of French instruction, I landed in…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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Image Credit: Kiele Twarowski When you died, I turned to food. Not in the way most do—hunched over a carton of Chinese takeout in the bath, head in the…
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Push your cheek against the porch window. Ha! How fitting the ruckus should come from the neighbors! you snicker. Then, remember how whenever you’d complain about the young couple next…
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by Paul Nelson [Editor’s Note: Last week I wrote a list of over 200 books about Los Angeles. This week we turn to Seattle and the guest columnist is…