Fossil

Once, she positioned herself in her usual armchair next to the window, where her duvet retained its usual cocoon shape. She sat watching the empty street, the fence, the garden plot, the stump, the fossil. She went down the pink porch in her thin cotton socks to see the fossil.

Sculpting Memory

Our memories are sculpted through the constant wrestling of forgetfulness and remembrance. Time is given a name and calendarized; we make sense of our past, present, and future as triplet brothers identified under the deceivingly named “I”. This universe of being sometimes talks about the weather twice a day, filling in gaps created by silence.

On Rediscovering Faith

My grandfather was not a Jew by choice. In 1930s Europe, being a Jew was a curse, and one that promised death. Born in the Jewish ghetto of Vienna, he was given the name of Erich Christian Schwarz, a triumphant effort at masking the family’s heritage through words. My grandfather escaped Europe by hope, beautiful

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