Dispatches from a Dead Language

When I started to learn Latin, I saw it everywhere. Location played a big role in this — Latin seems woven into the regional character of Italy, where I undertook a summer course in the language in a three-week intensive program at the University of Bologna. Bologna was sweltering, the streets in the center of

I AM – a poem

I am my umbilical cord My mother’s sleepless nights My father’s long drives I am the scent in my mother’s wardrobe The high heels I never fit I am the ingrained institutionalized religion Founded on fear. I am the shame and the guilt The vagina I am the black eyeliner I draw around my eyes

Happy Summer Break!

A message from Marga Hattingh, the blog editor: From Pankow to puppets to puppies, poems to podcasts to horoscopes to reflective articles, Die Bärliner has travelled far and wide this last academic year. We’re sad to see you go for the summer… which is why we’ll be sticking around. In your inbox. Probably every week.