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…

Being “Ms. Khan”

During the fall semester I decided to do an internship as a teacher’s assistant at a primary school in Berlin. In order to take full advantage of the opportunity, I backed up the practical experience I already had in the field with theoretical knowledge from Bard College Berlin’s internship seminar, “Berlin Institutions: Values in Practice.”

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