Going to school these last few months has been like watching the last grains of sand in an hourglass slowly trickle into the bottom bulb, and I’ve been racing against time, trying to make the most of even the most mundane parts of campus and campus life.
I firmly believe in the untapped energy of the M1 line: Along the tram tracks are some real jewels that are often ignored in favor of venues elsewhere in the city that require long, complicated transport routes. In this piece, I’d like to show you a laser maze, fancy food and drink, and plenty greenery.
In Mexico, 1,323,978 people were on the US Visa waitlist in 2014. Average wait time? 18 years. If someone wants to claim asylum, a backlog means they might wait days or weeks for their case to be processed. Many migrants are left with one option: the desert.
He looked at his hands in wonderas ifmind and body grew apart andreal-izedI can move my hands, my fingers eyes, he looked above and again as if mind and body grew apart he realized I can think; this might be my soul So why do I livehe asked himselfWhy do I live He wondered He
Some people are attached to their hometown because some cities are able to elicit feelings of loyalty, belonging and nostalgia. These cities are like a flawed but ultimately charming protagonist with a past that is both happy and sad. So the residents of these places who play supporting roles in the collective city narrative end
Living in Pankow has its upsides and its downsides. On the one hand, the neighbourhood is peaceful; on the other, it often feels far-removed from “the rest of Berlin”. Personally, I firmly believe in the untapped energy of the M1 line: Along the tram tracks are some real gems, one could even say jewels, that
This article was inspired by Roland Barthes’ Mythologies. Think of a caged hamster running in his wheel for infinity, urged to run faster and faster to the point of exhaustion but prevented from ever reaching a final stop. The modern consumer is the 21st century embodiment of the caged hamster as he spins the wheel
Cabin Fever Months snowed inA man rinsing and repeatingA sweet song played overTea heated on the stove forUnkempt hair and foggy glassesAnd bastard brain bashed inHe left home fast; saysHe never recoveredWhen looking at me through a cameraI was not so sureAbout my presenceAnd what I should be trying forIt comes back to me when