becoming ourselves

exchange of letters

On Writing

In my early years of high school—whenever teens learn about Coleridge, Wordsworth, Keats, Lord Byron and Shelley. Every English class started with a stream-of-consciousness writing assignment. It was sold to us as a form of mental calisthenics—a way to ...

Canned Horse Face

The calm, cool ocean of books beneath the desert surface rippled, disrupted by the movements of two tiny fish fleeing a school of sharks. The footsteps of the guards echoing nearby, we careened into a dusty corner of the underground bookstacks. In a ...

The Hollow Truth

It had been a boring week since leaving the underground library. The desert’s shifting sands seemed to stretch infinitely towards the horizon. We followed the stars, and seemed to be heading in the right direction, but made no progress. Every ten paces, ...

Awakening

We left our strange and delightful company under a full moon in a palace of sand, a place the cat called the Forgotten Library. Our farewell was brief and cordial—a few flowery words from our feline friend and a deep bow from the boy knight that ...

The Glowing Number

The talking cat was the first one to break the silence, after a few seconds of poking at the embers with a stick. None of us had decided to ask yet about the glowing number that hovered above his head: 2770. “I have found myself rambling through ...

The Path to Somewhere

“There’s no need to rush anywhere,” said the Hiker, who was by this point holding court in the conversation. “All you need to do is keep walking. Don’t run — you’ll get discouraged. Just walk. Bring enough water, and have some food ready to refresh ...