BUY PRINT

& DIGITAL

I collect random lies.

GROCERY STORE TRUTH BY MARY WOLFF 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 56
I can feel the flutter of eyes from the housewives as they judge my movements.

I cannot say home in French because there isn’t really a word.

TOUJOURS BY HANNAH HORNSEY 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 56
So when I say chez moi is translated to my place, does it really mean anything?

I fear I’ll lose my intensity, my stubbornness in the face of injustice.

SPIRITUAL SEIZURES BY MARKITA NAOMI SCHULMAN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 56
When I am four feet tall, and there are just two weeks until summer vacation, I jump in the pool after school and the chlorine stings. I pour milk from a gallon jug in my eyes. After dark, I cry desperately in my bed and when my mother comes I tell her, “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”