Allan Aquino sodium lamps pass: a soft, drifting bronze. sailing the city past midnight, taking her home. music murmurs, whispers: she sleeps soundly beside me….

Michele Gutierrez By the time I was nine years old I had already cried enough tears for a woman two or three times my age. I cried over big hurts like when my father left or my mother hit me and I would cry over smaller hurts, hurts so small I remember nothing about them other than the fact that I shed tears over them…

Narinda Heng discovering paper again, the scratch of ink on pages, like tattooing skin, a permanence on, sheets to be, carried, in pockets, held close to the chest, hidden from view…

Yumi Sakugawa Remember the time when you would lock yourself up in the second bathroom stall from the front on the second story building of the nondescript building right across from the train station by your grandmother’s house for about ten minutes, where you would cry, scream into your elbow and hit yourself so hard against your head that you would wince from the bruises every time you shampooed your hair…



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