Angel

This story is part of our Summer Fiction Month 2020. Click here to view the stories featured this Fiction Month, as well as past fiction pieces. One morning in late spring, when only the earliest risers of the orchard were awake, a car was found crashed into the milky river that surrounded the town. The man

What’s Next? – A Senior Interview Series (#2: Ania Flanigan & Veronika Rišňovská)

Veronika at Pankumenta (Credit: Daniel Kovács) One of the three possible concentrations of the Humanities, the Arts, and Social Thought (HAST) program at Bard College Berlin is Arts & Aesthetics. This concentration encompasses a variety of art forms and fields, including the performing and visual arts. Two students who demonstrate the vast array of possibilities

And Now, The Generalissimo Will Use These Tortellini to Turn You into a Horse

What I can remember, however, every morning, is a dream. Not merely a memory of a memory hiding in the recess of a bad night’s sleep. I remember every detail. The color of the curtains in the room, the number of flowers in the vase, the dialogue, what I’m wearing, who I am. I can recall a maximum of three dreams from the previous night, but I average around two. But just like you probably have no idea what you ate for dinner a week ago, eventually the dream falls away. I make a point of remembering the ones I want to remember and I let the rest go. People always tell me to write them down. I’ve protested this practice. A dream is ineffable, not simply language, it isn’t just a story…