With you I share this little piece of self, for the temporality of days in which our presence lacks and lingers, slithers and soothes, smiles in remembrance—a game: I said, ‘One plus one is two.’ You said, ‘I promise you.’ And this self I share with you, I share with none other.
There runs a poison Through the veins That clogs the blood And strangles. There runs a poison unleashed That burdens Stings Entangles. Glory, Its aggressors seek, And falsify it, They do. Victims, With complexions bleak, Flee and fall In soaking dunes. There lies a body strewn, With poisoned veins, That root through
Osman Chaudhry, age 18, is Bard College Berlin’s youngest published author. His first book “Wisdom Salad” (named after his band) is currently available in Pakistan, as well as in the Bard College Berlin library. In the form of poems and brief commentaries, this book is a thematic mixture of religion, death, love, hate… you name
~ We meet early for breakfast at the campus cafeteria, while most of our peers are either fast asleep or rushing to class. It’s a rare spring day in Berlin. We decide to talk upstairs. The walls seem whiter than ever; I grab more coffee. Perhaps it’s the sun piercing through the windows. ~ Mathujitha
On February 17th, Bard College Berlin had the privilege to host filmmakers Chloe Smolarski and Tasha Darbes for a screening and discussion of Admissions: Student Stories from Undocumented America. The film, released in 2011, reveals four intimate yet intricately connected stories of undocumented young men and women who are struggling to live up to their
I yield, To the morning haze that engulfs my spirits; I yield. For Mother Nature calls, My body withdraws; I am within and without. Serenity. I know not why My slumbers break with the sunrise. My inner and outer worlds meddle and wed, And I am one. The birds
A falling star, in truth, is a meteorite—a combination of dust and rock falling into the Earth’s atmosphere. As these meteorites fall, they burn up and leave a short-lived trail of light—a meteor. Like stars, meteorites exist in plenty. In much the same way that the universe is constructed, our human realm is in some
Somewhere, In the root of the stomach, It is born. In the gut, It unfolds. You walk. It spins around your neck, It swims from head to toe, And you swoon. You talk. It knocks you back and forth. It’s your mouth that moves, Another voice That’s coming through.