God

I dream of a bittersweet symbolic and literal end, one that releases me from the silly trivialities of life. I want to be old and nagging, receiving movie theater and bus discounts for the suffering I have endured in my very human experience. 

While I have no tangible evidence of what happened that day in the pews of a church, I do feel more certain that not everything in this world comes down to empirical explanation.

The Berkeley Forum gathered a panel of four speakers Thursday to discuss the impact of Silicon Valley and other Western technology industries on the Global South.

He realized, then, that it was, unmistakably, the squirrel talking to him. The squirrel was talking to him.  

If your version of the creation story doesn’t quite fit, if it bunches around the wrists or itches at the neck, dare to imagine something better.

I was both baptized and named before living 30 days on Earth, which meant my cross-religious identity was solidified before I could support the weight of my own head.

Glück meets the basic needs for her garden by compensating its physical meagerness with rich imagination and satirical fun.

Beyond bewildering but piquing curiosity nonetheless, “The Storm of Echoes” is nothing short of a fever dream.

Perhaps the curse of every play about morality is that the lesson learned at the end of the play seems too simple to really be impactful.