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Waves From The Past: Retelling the Legacy of Okinawa

Students who participated in a Learning Across Boundaries (LAB) programme held in Okinawa last summer hosted a powerful art exhibition conveying the resilience that Okinawan locals display while overcoming their challenging past. Shivani reports.
Arts Shivani Dayal -

Watermelon

Loneliness is to give the body to the self who will not keep it. * Ahgong...
Literature The Octant -

what i try remembering

in my mind, a gallery of windows, sun melting across glass. i track differences: hair grown past your...
Literature The Octant -

My Family is not a Cloud

short story | Roshan Singh Some light crept in through the bedroom door and took a...
Literature The Octant -

Loss

poem | Professor Anju Mary Paul photo | Vice-Rector Eduardo Lage-Otero He died and I wasn't...
Literature The Octant -
Latest

Waves From The Past: Retelling the Legacy of Okinawa

Students who participated in a Learning Across Boundaries (LAB) programme held in Okinawa last summer hosted a powerful art exhibition conveying the resilience that Okinawan locals display while overcoming their challenging past. Shivani reports.

Watermelon

Loneliness is to give the body to the self who will not keep it. * Ahgong is an atheist. Watermelons cut, cubed. The closest thing to supper...

what i try remembering

in my mind, a gallery of windows, sun melting across glass. i track differences: hair grown past your ear, fingertips heavier on shoulder blades. to share moments apart, i beg to...

My Family is not a Cloud

short story | Roshan Singh Some light crept in through the bedroom door and took a seat by the little girl’s bed. Hey, how you doing? The...

Loss

poem | Professor Anju Mary Paul photo | Vice-Rector Eduardo Lage-Otero He died and I wasn't there.   

Ninety-seven years old. My grandfather.  
In his bed,...

Traveling with Grief

story | Professor Robin Hemley photo | IowaNow My sister had been sick for a long time, and when she died of a prescription drug overdose,...

For Snowy, the dog I barely knew

I only disliked her tongue—wagging loco- motion, frantic playfulness and un- welcome wet when I got too close. I would   hide under the table to avoid Snowy...

the aftermath of my toilet

when you left, your hair clogged the sink again. it rises with the water, seaweed lungs breathing past every lover's stain, yet planted into grime. my hands fear uprooting...

Fresh

Poem by Paul Jerusalem, Guest Writer   i. What they don’t show you on prospective student brochures is the gap between each tile, how differently vomit tastes on its...

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