* * * There is a little bird, I don’t remember the name of him, but he skims right over the surface of the ocean. It must be frightening out…
depression
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* * * BIRDS Megan Heise Ever make mistakes in life? Let’s make them birds. Yeah, they’re birds now – Bob Ross Put a bird on it! – Portlandia …
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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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IVY HUONG NGUYEN was born and raised in Saigon, Vietnam, and immigrated to America with her family at the age of 10. She is currently…
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Image Credit: Carsten Lenz There are four tunnels on the drive between the house I grew up in and the house I live in now. Four hours of black…
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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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Creative Nonfiction / Essay
Why Did He Have to Be So Good at Kissing?
by Guest Contributor February 14, 2020Image Credit: “Last One In” by Matthew Oliphant I’m sitting in my car, idling in front of the gated entrance to a storage facility in Fallbrook. It’s 11:30 PM.…
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Image Credit: National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia Like most avid readers, I have long let Don Quixote, that seventeenth century tome of imaginary adventures, sit unread on my…
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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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Creative Nonfiction / EssayFeatured
Literacy Narrative: You are Learning a New Language
by Guest Contributor April 18, 2019Although you have never been to Iceland and have no immediate plans to visit, you’ve recently decided that it is in your best interest to learn to speak Icelandic. The…
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My husband died on a Tuesday morning. It was around eleven when I finished painting the first half of my bedroom ceiling and decided to take a break. I made…
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I didn’t see the physical mess: I smelled it. A noxious odor—a potion of blood and paint fit for the three witches of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Earlier that day, my brother…
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Happiness is the privilege of presence. I have this unrelenting habit (or maybe personality) where I either need good things to be over, or that in the middle of good…
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I I heard your cries before I saw you, a secondhand cacophony from multiple iPhone speakers. When one of your grandmas tried to show me a video, I waved the…