Separated From the Earth
by Brittany Ackerman
The reality and delusion of love, of being in love, of yearning for it. There’s the short-lived high, and then there’s the quick landing.
“I walk home along the river, the long way back to my hostel. I look up at the space where paragliders fly during the day, the emptiness of the air they fill, how their twirling and spinning seems to make everything better with brightly colored parachutes.”
by Lori Lamothe
When the things we take for granted are gone—what will people remember of you, in the end?
“That was before I understood you can drown in stone and sky as easily as you can in water. Before I learned survival is mostly about forgetting.”
You Shall be a Witness to My Works
by Christopher Overfelt
A man, frozen in time, observes the month of May roll into town, hot-headed and murderous, tired of winter, exploding with life and rife with death.
“Transfixed on the balcony, the man isn’t sure how long he stands in his underwear but the cycle of the seasons seem to come and go around him. In the hedges below, the stems begin to grow upwards unchecked, spreading shoots and leaves along the brick walls and iron railings.”
by Dan Romo
Here we have lovers, not love, and the precarious act of juggling more than one. Sounds like fun—maybe a game, even—but in the end gravity lands all players firmly down on the ground.
“The difficulty in keeping bodies balanced in the atmosphere is adjusting for the wind, and maintaining the conscience in constant motion.”
India on a Distant Shore
by Ran Walker
Love—as luminous and light as air; as heavy as the endless waters of the ocean that will pull you under when you least expect it.
“Love was air. It sometimes smelled of weed or cigarettes or sweat or chocolate chip cookies. It was safe and transparent—and even appeared endless, like the water before her now.”