no.1: In / Out

Scent of Truth

I once had a dream that smelled so strong I woke up. There was a woman in a dark saloon who swore she loved me. But as I turned to face her there, I found no one, instead alone, bathing in the stench of liquor. I sat in my bed trying to remember what that…

Unearthing the Underground

A house show has all the excitement and mystery of the dark, cramped home of a stranger, loud, floor-shaking music, and collective effervescence of young people laughing, drinking, and dancing in fluorescent lights.

Iza in the Flesh

Iza Hu doesn’t wear shoes when she tattoos. I tell her this, perched on a black folding chair in the corner of her makeshift bedroom-studio, watching her black fuzzy socks pace the hardwood floors. She laughs—“I’ve never thought about that. Like, most people in the world probably wear shoes when they tattoo.”

Poetry from the People’s Townhomes

These poems are an ode to “the lovely hour” when the sun is setting after a 100 degree day. this poem is an ode to 40th street, to the magic of the urban playground, to the time between then and now. an ode to our never ending summer.

The Ghosts of Locust

There’s a graveyard underneath Locust Walk. The bodies lie silent below the footfalls of University of Pennsylvania students, below the children playing inside the statue of the broken button, below the aged limestone buildings where professors lecture on physics and astronomy. This campus, I believe, lies in the shadows of ghosts.

Penn After Midnight

In the early morning, I used to ride my bike around campus in search of the people who kept campus breathing: Amber, a highrise security guard; Nasir, the West and Down nightclub bouncer; and many more in places like McDonald’s, the police station, neuro ICU, and even my first-year dorm room.