Letting Go of the Conceit

By Holly Day

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Imparting tiny grains of colored sand with intricate thoughts
One giant flower covering the ground. It was so beautiful
I wanted take it home with me.

After it was done, he smeared great swaths of color against itself until
It was nothing but white sand.
It should have changed my life. I should have taken it away with me
Let his day disappear in the pursuit of beauty, but just the beauty of the moment.

I fully intended to go home and erase everything I had ever written
With the artist’s apparent satisfaction at the act of creation
Should be enough for me, too.

– Holly Day

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The Right Side of the Crowd

By Yuliya Klochan

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On Friday, the crowd stopped by the most vulnerable place. A library. An orchard. A school.

The people in the crowd raided bakeries because they’d never baked bread. Shot at rotten houses because they’d never had to live in filth. Every experience they didn’t get, they annihilated for the humans to come.

Then the caravan trudged onward. The nurses on duty cursed as they removed broken glass from bleeding bodies.

They had marched for the same number of days as the age of their oldest walker. 83.

I traveled with the crowd for 9 Fridays. On the 10th, the crowd schemed to raid every treehouse in a suburb where white picket fences got hosed with an unlimited supply of potable water. Where roads extended into dead ends and every pothole was the cause for an evening’s complaint.

I grew up in a place like that. Then I left for a college more isolated than my town. All while I dreamed to see more.

When the crowd swept through the candy aisle, I joined. My father said, “Don’t go.”

I said nothing when I slammed through his door. Behind me, my mother cried.

Some memorable members of the crowd were: Henry, who squeezed his legs close at the table to pick dirt from under his toenails.

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