Photo by Alienlanus – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 Once upon a time, the two cities could have been twins separated by little more than a body of water larger than a river but smaller than a sea. The muddy depths could be easily forgotten in the golden shimmer of the...
Photo by Mmartin1460 – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0 By the quiet waters of the suburban town of badagry/ there is somewhere called: the point of no return/ slaves that were carted away on wooden vessels beyond that point would never return home again/ I stand at the...
Photo by Cc3339 via Wikimedia Commons. License: CC BY-SA 4.0 The sign on the locked gates to Holy Land said ‘No Trespassing,’ but it was almost lost in the overgrowth. Graham thought he could make a convincing argument that he hadn’t seen it if...
(text by Miriam Calleja; photograph by Dylan Willoughby) They said I should hide my body but make it more accessible, fit it with locks that only stay on the latch, never lock the doors, and never draw the curtains completely. My mum insisted that I should get...
Photo by Scott Anderson Old stone steps wedged in loam wind down the gorge to forest then river. Here shadows hide before noon and the world-weary congregate— cottonwoods, maples, oaks. Brown switchgrass. A hollowed out log worn smooth by wind, water, the work of...
Photo: Wonju Train Station, South Korea – Trainholic via Wikimedia Commons. License:CC BY-SA 4.0 Chanlee Luu is a Vietnamese-Chinese American writer from southern Virginia. She received her MFA in creative writing at Hollins University and BS in chemical...
