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Prose: Memento Vivere.

remember you are alive. I’ve been so busy living life lately that I haven’t had much time to sit down and write about it. To document every nook, every cranny of where I’ve been; or to carve out the...

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Prose: Catch My Breath

Freedom means having nothing left to lose. She’d gotten the phrase off a story she’d read over the internet when she was fifteen, the words had stuck in her head like a broken record played on repeat,...

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Prose: Paper Cups (Part 2)

“You still haven’t answered the question, so I made it the same way. If you don’t like it, just tell me. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” The words underneath the “You’re extremely hot” that had...

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Article: Of Rusted Chains

Before I left Penang to return to the UK for university, my mother asked me to do three things: visit my grandaunt, make an appointment with a doctor, and check up with an old family friend who I...

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Prose: These Lights Won’t Kill Me

The problem with living the dream was that some day you would need to wake up. Bright lights, flashing cameras, a hundred-and-eighty megawatt smile to match! You could laugh all day and party all...

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Prose: escapade.

She storms into your existence and sets it ablaze. You meet her at your brother’s housewarming. She’s a friend of a friend of a friend, she tells you, features taut and lips pursed, mouth set into a...

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Prose: Hey There, What’s Crackin’?

  Three things had been broken by the end of the morning, and there was still an hour to go before lunchtime. Firstly, a pair of navy blue Speedos that had previously belonged to a mister Hayden Green....

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Prose: please return to sender. [an open letter to a family friend]

You used to play tennis with my parents every Friday. Though they always said I wasn’t allowed snacks between meals, they always made an exception when you were around- we would crouch by the dinner...

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Poem: Bullet

bang. put a bullet through her brain and you’ll get city lights and fast cars. parties and cameras and buildings piercing through the sky, club nights and pub meets where she pretends she’s drunker...

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Article: Finding Homeland

I cannot speak as a whole for that collection of people whose hearts belong to everywhere and nowhere, have many places that they can call a house but not a home. Each country takes root in each person...

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