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works for a post-pandemic world.





from home, where the heart is

My First Pandemic by Yuvraj Khanna

Lockdown Song

by MAR

Of Capital Importance
by Danielle Solo

We all have a duty to stay inside,
to be prepared, to take care of our people and by our people, I mean Jeff Bezos.

Let us offer up our essential workers,

our old, our homeless, our sick
as sacrifices to the mighty dollar—

perhaps a little extra for Elon Musk: after all, he has a baby on the way.

Shadow Studies

by Danielle Labonté

"My shadow studies capture the beauty

and movement of nature and its shadows that glisten into my home amidst the chaos of COVID-19."


Photos by Cailen Speers

(Left) Pandemic Scribbles
by Liz Whitbread

by Sanjayan Kulendran & Tesolin Adams-Piccolo

My Days With Iterations
by Jennifer Hillhouse

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Screenshot in Greyscale:
Talking With Grandpa (Above)

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My Days With Iterations
by Hannah Briggs

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The Oasis
by Jordan M. Burns

My bed, my walls, the rooms I see,

Everyday love, computerized technology,

Speaking to those through the electricity,

Sometimes falling, yet I feel free.

The world is spinning, my head was dizzy,

Out of the window, the world is pretty,

Out of the wonder, the spirits so high,

The curiosities of the missing laugh, I cry.

Yet, not one of pain. I see the healing,

The pain is there; but, it can be misleading,

I take a look outside and call to the air,

I see that through it all, we are all here.

There, here, everywhere, looking out, seeing blue,

Wondering how nice it would be to hold you,

Changing views, hues, and other shades of blue,

Wondering if the world misses us too.

My bed, my walls, the rooms I see,

Everyday love, computerized technology,

Speaking to those through the electricity,

My oasis, electronically.

After Breakfast

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Just Before Lunch

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Afternoon 1

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Afternoon 2

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Something was coming

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Nothing was coming

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Just Before Dusk

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Photos (Above and Upwards) by Adeline Li


Sanctuary by Danielle Labonté

by Amelia Eqbal

she watches the milk swirl in her coffee

and wonders when her essay will begin to write itself

and follows her straw with her finger

and looks for a mistake to make

and waits for a mysterious someone to whisk her away, someone she can really sink her claws into

and nods her head quickly before sinking further
into the abyss of her daydream

but marks her path on the way back up to reality

so she can find her way back there again

to know how it ends

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Photo (Above) by Stephie J. Madsen

"I am sharing a photo of all the knitting I've been doin gas my personal tether to sanity during COVID. It features a scarf, hat, and tie I've knitted throughout the quarantine period with varying degrees of success (you may notice my beret closely resembles the top half of a bell pepper). Working with my hands has been so rewarding and comforting and it's an art I will continue to partake in for a long time."

I Finally Watched Marie Kondo
by Danielle Solo

Somewhere between reruns of The Good Place and Brooklyn Nine-Nine,

I decided that clothes do not bring me joy
and neither does the concept of time. If anyone needs me,
I’ll be in bed: not answering the phone.

But all this aside, there are things to get done

like disinfecting each avocado with pure alcohol

or asking difficult questions like:
why didn’t I see these red flags before?​ or
what does bring me joy?

I paint my nails something called sultry, practice sticking out my stomach in the mirror and take an obnoxious number of self-portraits.
Since I’d rather record my ego than my destructive thoughts,
I redownload Instagram. Twitter too, though I’m far from witty enough.

Surprisingly, Pinterest is okay—though it turns out

Linda’s mac and cheese was not better than sex.

Would sex spark joy? At this point, I’m too afraid to ask.



by Juan Huapalla Rivera

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