-Athol Williams I It hangs from a twig, cast like a monument yet inside there is rearrangement – miracles that shuffle laws and cogs and planets. The insipid Layman caterpillar, stripped of its brown coat, is strapped into a golden life jacket that invites time to fan its wings. Within its embrace the chrysalis holds…
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Decay
-Chase Maser The houses just don’t seem as bright; their grasses aren’t as green as they used to be in my younger sight, and as the daytime turns to night each hour kills another sheen. From all I’ve lost, I’m able to see the life and death of every shade from every cloud and withered…
Read MoreA Wake-Up Call for a Society
We need to create opportunities for our young generation to explore deeper ethical realities which are beyond the game of numbers, exams, grades and testing.
Read MoreThe Leadership Fetish
A nobler requirement of our leaders would be to liberate us from any need to be led.
Read MoreOde to My Commute
-Chase Maser Every morning, I pack my things and ride down the hill to the path by the river. The wind-chill makes me shiver from inside my blue jacket, and I halfway cover both hands in my pockets, watching the sun light the backs of crows perched on the railing. I see their chests breathing…
Read MoreA Moment with Abraham
-Daniel Parks Near Ngare Sero, a Maasai village nestled against the Great Rift Valley in Tanzania, I opted to climb Ol Doinyo Lengai, “The Mountain of God…” 1:44 AM: We are hours into our quiet, grueling hike to the summit. The Milky Way Galaxy provides the night’s only light. Abraham (my Maasai guide) and I…
Read MorePlasticine Dreams
We have to make a choice, whether we love our plastics, or whether we love our home, and whether we care about the beings that have no say in the matter.
Read MoreWater & India – A Story of Life
Water will be India’s biggest problem over the coming decades.
Read MoreAt Home
-Athol Williams It makes no sound, the alien, dripping in kaleidoscopic marble. Light and distance ripple between us that bends my eyes. It just stands there, on the orange dirt floor of my home, mute, frozen, a monument to an arrival – its stillness, its statement. A faceless head is installed on a…
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