Photos from Calais Jungle
Photo from Calais Jungle
by Vincent Peal
About the artist…
Vincent Peal is a Belgian photographer who lives currently in New York City. These are some pics about the work he did in a refugee camp in Calais – France.
Dendrophilia & The Guardians
Dendrophilila & The Guardians
by Andrew Blucha
Collage
Collage
#5, #3, & #2
by Jeronimo
Last Week of the Month
Myka Owen
Abstract
In this text, I give the reader a first-person view of my experience while incarcerated at the Broward County Jail on a charge that was immediately dismissed by the judge that I was brought upon. Though I felt the charge was ludicrous, the dehumanization and fear that was instilled in me made it very hard to simply “move past” the ridiculousness of the arrest. This was my first and only time being arrested, something I feel like everyone will eventually go through despite being innocent or cooperative. There are simply times where the “justice […]
The Never-End of History: Finding Meaning in the World-Historical Moment
Mark Howard
INTRODUCTION
In 1989 Francis Fukuyama(1)claimed that the end of history was upon us; Liberal Democracy had prevailed in the social, political, and ideological unfolding of secular modernity, and competing social forms could no longer pretend to offer viable alternatives. It would only be a matter of time, he felt, before deniers of this truth would be converted into the faith.
The end of history, as I understand it, is the end of politics; and politics, as I define it, is the process of contestation over social form. What Fukuyama was essentially claiming was that […]
Fare
Rowan O’Neal
When the old man boarded the bus dragging his rolling metal basket, laden with groceries, he joked that he had nearly 200 pounds. The driver asked how far he was going, to which the old man replied, “Oh two, three stops, just up to the top of the hill.” There really was not much of a hill, but it was clear that the old man would not have been able to drag his groceries that far. The driver told the man not to worry about his fare which seemed sensible, […]
On The Night You Were Angry
Fiona Haborak
In the reflective glass, you spy a distorted version of yourself. An agitated woman stares back. So, you shrink a little further into yourself, shoulders hunched to avoid attention. Dark circles hang under your eyes far heavier than your Burlington bag bargain find. Cheap, purple earbuds jostle with every stop announced over the intercom. You sigh and shuffle closer to the sliding doors to make for a swift exit.
You must be tired of the songs they write about girls: the ones you will never be. You’re drowning in your oversized sweater, your woolen […]
The Rise and Fall of Prince Charming
Mark Axelrod-Sokolov
Not too long ago, but sometime after the break up, Malarkey happened to be in Paris for a writer’s conference. He generally avoided writers’ conferences because they tended to be a bit too pretentious for Malarkey, what with everyone there thinking he or she was a better writer than everyone else who was there there thinking he or she was a better writer than everyone else who was there thinking he or she was a better writer than everyone else who was there cacoethes scribendi. That […]
Scotch
J. David Liss
I
The train was about to pull out of Union Station, the conductor talking and talking over the loudspeaker system so that nobody could make a phone call. I’d gotten on board early and found my favorite seat — the aisle seat at the front of the car facing back. I liked being able to see the faces of the people riding with me, even if it meant looking back where we came from.
The front of the train always has a four-seater, two facing forward, […]
Psychosomatic
Sarah Jane Weill
It was in her head. Mostly along the length of her jaw, radiating upwards and outwards and backwards so that it often gripped the whole globe of her skull. A gnawing pain. A sensation unlike anything she’d experienced before. Alive and furious at all hours.
Phoebe didn’t remember when the pain started, only when it became something she couldn’t ignore. A Tuesday, last month, the drizzle outside threatening to swell into drops. Normally, Phoebe liked this kind of day, easily aligned with an afternoon sheltered in the university […]