By Mara Lorch Below my boots, bubbles sway. Slush forms in the middle of the wide river’s current, brushing against icy edges, sending sounds of change out into the open valley. Cranes shoot by above, heads stretching south. The chill in the air has ushered vibrancy out, welcoming in varying shades of white and blue, reflecting in endless different ways depending on ice crystals and mood. Leaves and algae are partially frozen in place: still barely green, clinging to summer’s quick burst. Recently, they shimmered brightly in the breeze above, but now they shiver below in the unrelenting river’s flow.

Blank and sorrowful, one finds themselves prompting their friends for joyful memories they have long since forgotten. Like clockwork, they know better than the questioning individual retrieving memories as if they were shared yesterday. Almost as if they are AI in the flesh, a disturbing thought to say the least. Has one’s own life become so faint as to not recall how to experience joy? Is the routine spiral constantly starting over with each new inconvenience? One can only ponder for so long before developing into a state of an existential crisis, at the expense of a much desired slumber. Perhaps excitement was just imagined after all. by Anonymous

The fog below appeared unforgiving, thick and heavy. An obstructed line of vision gave nothing for establishing ground-truth. Looking up to the sky, they were able to use the constellations to their advantage by locating the two stars at the base of the big dipper then veering off and up to the right to lock in on the North star. Now that they had a sense of direction, they felt a bit more secure, but somehow knew that, regardless of what was to happen, serenity was within reach. It felt good to move with a purpose again, even if they were just eels in a stream. by Anonymous

Behind your eyes lies you. The real you, only you can see. What do you see there? by Anonymous

by Manarah Brown Touching down to lush green earth. The dirt was both fiery and frozen in this middle land. There was nothing more beautiful than this, not in that moment; maybe not ever before. The air was a pale blue with the cool temperature of the season. Almost taken by the wind, I would have let it too. I had heard that Vikings once ruled this world; I believe it. An immense impressiveness encapsulated my entire being that morning and held onto me for months thereafter. Around my heart, the lupine roots continue to grow thick; I will love you always, Reykjavík.

by Manarah Brown Alleyways, bustling streets, and payphones. People buzzed around, enjoying the cool December afternoon. Much of the unknown architecture flooded my mind with curiosity and intrigued the artist within me. Tall window panes and fine stone creations towered above. The canals carried memory, beauty, and tradition just below the street’s edge. And their little bridges were passageways to other unexplored areas of the city. The houseboats hold only those who want more out of life, I expect. To end the fine day: a rainy evening, and of course, the gulls swooping overhead, hoping I’d drop a piece of my Amsterdam bread.

by Andres Quiroga As you sip your coffee, pause and reflect: your soul mirrors your external environment. Just as the swirling foam echoes your surroundings and the warmth reflects your inner glow, what’s within shapes what’s beyond. Harmony in your thoughts creates harmony in your world, like the perfect balance of cream and brew. Each small choice—gratitude, kindness, a deep breath—ripples outward, shaping the reality around you. Remember, the universe isn’t out there; it’s inside you, in your heart, in your mind. Thus, sip deeply, live intentionally, and let every moment reflect the beauty you hold within.

by Holly McCamant The only stable thing in this house Is the couch We got you for Mother’s Day. I was So excited to surprise you. So ready to See a glimpse of joy. And you Proudly told us you dreamt Of setting fire. To it You said – it was a dream. But We knew you dreamt it with your Eyes wide open. But when A new couch was needed You wanted one that was exactly the same. You chose it. So it was perfect

by Martin Phillips I sit across from myself at a cafe. We make the awkward, stilted conversation of college roommates meeting years later, tinny bossa nova covering the silences. As our coffee cools, we begin to warm up to each other’s company. Anecdotes, inside jokes, and memories begin to bubble up where small talk about weather used to sit. I ask why we ever stopped talking in the first place. My mirror shifts uncomfortably in the wooden seat. We both know why. After a moment, we gather our belongings and make plans to do this again. We embrace, and for a moment, we are one.

by Martin Bargo A man in our circle always seemed one step ahead, as if he’d been practicing for moments that hadn’t arrived yet. He’d drop something with his right hand and catch it with his left. When we played fetch with our dog, he’d pull out a backup ball before the dog even lost the first one—and he didn’t even own a dog. One night, after a few drinks, we convinced him to take a challenge: predict 20 coin tosses. He nailed every single one. That’s when he cracked. “I’m a time traveler,” he said. No one believed him, of course.