No Country for Harvard Men

I felt like I had entered a thick and strange haze. Daily showers made me feel unnaturally clean, and I missed the smooth arc of the sun across the sky. I felt like a space alien walking down a crowded street and making small talk after class.

Goodbye, Beloved

To me, Sethe was the literary embodiment of womanhood — the queenly woman with blood on her hands and a tree scarred into her back. She was the personification of repression and “rememory,” the manifestation of a traumatic past into the present.

To Be Tamed

“The Little Prince” makes me homesick for all the places I’ve been and all the places I have yet to see.

room cover photo

My collage brings to mind precious experiences that I’d have otherwise forgotten. It’s like a library of my life, which challenges the ephemerality that my memories can easily take on.

Nesting in Ephemera

I sliced up some magazines, printed out a few photos from my camera roll with a sticker printer I’d just received for my birthday, and stuck it all above my bed. The mere presence of color, and the memories each small picture held, felt like a balm — something consistent and bright and mine to return to. With a couple scraps of paper, I’d planted roots.

Srija Graphic

We go to bed expecting that we will wake up the next morning — that our loved ones wake up the next morning. Paranoid that this simple ask wouldn’t be granted had me regularly waking up at 3 a.m., wondering if I would again open my phone to a wave of calls, texts, or Facetimes to deliver some unfathomable bad news.

Seeking the Past

For a while, I couldn’t help but to think pessimistically about life. What if this phone call is my last? What if this joke is my last? What if this outfit is my last? After all, friends, family, and circumstance remain victims of life’s volatility. It felt rather odd to be working toward something; what if the future I’m hoping for isn’t realized? What if the future isn’t realized?

Anywhere I Go

When you lose the trappings of the familiar, you have no reminder of who you have been, or who you are supposed to be. So being in new places, at least at first, is both terrifying and exhilarating: You get to move a little more freely, losing the weight that expectations and environmental cues hold.

Salt Lake City Temple

It was strange, returning to that personal mecca. It was here that I had made pilgrimages throughout high school and college, where I had implored God for strength and guidance. Now, even as someone unable to enter beyond its foyer, I found myself praying.

A Soft Place to Land

I didn’t want their God to die the way mine did.

Nafplio, Greece

And there were moments I wanted to keep for myself, like walking the paths of ancients in Mycenae, floating in water so salty I barely had to tread to stay afloat, discovering hidden beaches populated by cats along cliffside trails.

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