The morning began with the pale, clean light that seems to belong uniquely to reclaimed land. I set out at a jog, keeping to the periphery of Urayasu's peninsula, circling the edge where land and
...
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Creative Nonfiction
Creative Nonfiction
Society
3 min
Failing Bath Time
Everyone knows how to take a bath, right?
I thought I did, until I visited Japan for the first time.
Japan has elevated bathing to an art form, complete with accoutrements like wooden buckets ... [+]
I thought I did, until I visited Japan for the first time.
Japan has elevated bathing to an art form, complete with accoutrements like wooden buckets ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
Society
4 min
The Chicken Chase of Banyumas
Deep in the heart of Central Java, tucked between rolling green hills and sprawling rice fields, lay the quiet village of Banyumas. Life moved slowly there—too slowly for Darto, a twelve-year-old boy
...
[+]
Creative Nonfiction
Ponos Road
PONOS was the personified Greek spirit of hard labor and toil.
The wide, gravel path snaked through a scrub meadow joining two working-class neighborhoods. Every kid in the neighborhood walked ... [+]
The wide, gravel path snaked through a scrub meadow joining two working-class neighborhoods. Every kid in the neighborhood walked ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
Swim, Swam, Swan
I stand by my front door with car keys in hand, flip-flops on my feet, panic in my heart.
"Let me get this right: I am going to take this gigantic menopausal body," I wave my hand like a Price is ... [+]
"Let me get this right: I am going to take this gigantic menopausal body," I wave my hand like a Price is ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
A Gift of One Green Stone
For Richard
It was 1984 and we were pretending to be spies.
It was one of those "adult" games that twists your arm to mingle. Our host, David, greeted us at the door with a card that had ou ... [+]
It was 1984 and we were pretending to be spies.
It was one of those "adult" games that twists your arm to mingle. Our host, David, greeted us at the door with a card that had ou ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
Someone You Know
JANUARY 2020. 7234 miles from Chicago, China reports the first death from a novel coronavirus. There is no evidence it can spread among humans.
I'm commuting to school and two women on the train are ... [+]
I'm commuting to school and two women on the train are ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
The Chair in the Bathroom
Nature is calling. As a new intern in the medical intensive care unit (MICU) my bladder is not yet trained to resist this instinctual human need. The team has been rounding for six hours, discussing
...
[+]
Creative Nonfiction
Where Have You Gone, Chu Hua?
I met Mia for the first time at my tennis club. A small Chinese woman with dark brown eyes and short-cropped black hair, she greeted me with a heavy Chinese accent.
"Are you Ken?" she asked.
To my ... [+]
"Are you Ken?" she asked.
To my ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
Where Magic Goes to Die
My hands used to create magic. I think with the increasing demands of adulthood, they've had their spark pulled right out of them. My little sister's hands still glisten with it, but I fear he
...
[+]
Creative Nonfiction
Neutral Masks
We have to wear blank black clothes to mask class so our selves don't intrude.
People with hair in their face must pin their hair off their face.
When you're wearing black and have your face ... [+]
People with hair in their face must pin their hair off their face.
When you're wearing black and have your face ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
Regeneration
It looks like a ghost heart. And it feels a little like Jello.
—Doris Taylor, bioengineer
I.
On the radio show Speaking of Faith, researcher Doris Taylor is telling us how to build a new ... [+]
—Doris Taylor, bioengineer
I.
On the radio show Speaking of Faith, researcher Doris Taylor is telling us how to build a new ... [+]
Creative Nonfiction
One Close Call
It was after 10:30 at night. I was surrounded by towers of nondescript apartment complexes over 20 stories high, though the middle courtyard was graced with beautiful trees hiding maze-like
...
[+]
Creative Nonfiction
America The Green
We drove south on York Road, passing the large brick house that always stole my attention. I peered past my mother's arms and the steering wheel, to take another long, unblinking look. The exterio
...
[+]