Post- Magazine Narrative
Post- Magazine
first snow [narrative]
By Samaira Mohunta | February 4My roommates point at the window. Look outside, they say. It’s all white, everything is white. The snow is coming down fast. But this is not the first snow we wanted, not how we wanted it. I’m sorry you had to leave. And I’m sorry you had to leave the way you did. But where did you go? You didn’t ...
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the art of dismemberment [narrative]
By Christina Li | December 3The scene is Paris, 1912. Following an excursion to Amsterdam for a personal exhibition, artist Henri Le Fauconnier returns to his home galleries. He is among his fellow Salon Cubists again, the spearheaders and rulers of the burgeoning movement that has taken over the public Parisian salons—mainly ...
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unlikely lovers [narrative]
By Vanessa Tao | December 3The stage lights switch on. The pit plays its first notes, and the audience goes quiet.
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thought enough to carry [narrative]
By Mar Falcon | November 20On the way to the appointment, they talk about their New Year’s plans. It’s December, and A is getting her tattoos removed. M is driving her because she is the only friend A trusts enough to witness the betrayal of her former belief in permanency. M also just likes to drive her places pretty often. ...
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shipping rakhis [narrative]
By Samaira Mohunta | November 19Ma won’t make poha for us on Sunday evenings anymore, and even on the rare occasions that she does, she won’t serve those golden-yellow grains alongside a glass full of steaming hot milk. I no longer ride behind your metallic cycle on my pastel one every school morning. I go by car, the one you ...
Post- Magazine
banana children [narrative]
By Danielle Li | November 12Baba talks like he will never stop again.
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i might permanently dye my hair red [narrative]
By Samaira Mohunta | November 12I walk out of my dorm in my polka-dot pajamas and short-sleeved crushed watermelon T-shirt to get myself some food. Halfway to the Ratty, I realize I have made a pathetic decision. I pull my phone out and frantically text the group chat:
Post- Magazine
a here with no edges [narrative]
By Nina Lidar | October 29It is easier, sometimes, to be outside of oneself.
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if i could (still) fly [narrative]
By Mar Falcon | October 22I stand on the chair, trying to keep my balance. My right arm stretches upwards as I reach for the top shelf, and I carefully grab the heavy box. I place it on my desk and I open it, and there it is: “When I grow up I will fly.” Among all my old hand-written letters, I choose this one to keep reading. ...
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familiarity [narrative]
By Samaira Mohunta | October 16I stepped onto a campus sidewalk, two days after the rush of move-in and still unsure how to find my way to V-Dub from my EmWool dorm, the Main Green a foreign field. I remember staring at your face, confused about why you were extending your arm forward to shake my hand, completely oblivious to the ...
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dive [narrative]
By Danielle Li | October 16I squeeze my eyes shut before the dive, even though they’re encased in my thick, blurry goggles. Perhaps my fear has to do with the near-drowning incident two summers ago, when the artificial blue waves of Sahara Sam’s Water Park held me down and I suddenly couldn't remember which way the sky was. ...
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paris at 1pm [narrative]
By Coco Kanders | October 8Seemingly, Paris is quiet at 1 p.m. on a Monday—at least in the Marais. I am sitting outside of a café, hoping for a mysterious, protagonistic moment with my journal and my whole milk latte (something only acceptable in France). The wind sends shivers down my spine, ripples through the pages of my ...
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longboard days [narrative]
By AnnaLise Sandrich | October 8When we were kids, my cousin Lucas liked to build stuff. A computer, once, I think, and definitely a 3D printer. His house was filled with all these gadgets that seemed like they had been beamed straight out of a sci-fi movie. He was three years older than me and the coolest person I knew. My younger ...
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notes on time [narrative]
By Nina Lidar | October 3After yet another late arrival, I wrote this in my notebook:
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on languages & risks [narrative]
By Katya Michkovskaia | October 1I rarely speak my native language at Brown. When I come back to my dorm and think in English—out of habit—I feel pathetic. It’s not because I don’t enjoy speaking it—it's this shift that reminds me of the performativity that underlies daily conversations. I sit on the floor and catch myself ...
