When you have mastered numbers, you will in fact no longer be reading numbers, any more than you read words when reading books. You will be reading meanings. – W.E.B. Du Bois Hello everyone, I am Dr. Susan Van Cliff. I will be your moderator for this process. …

What remains must be what’s true — Definitive moments are uncovered at breaking points Just as creations are pushed to their limits in test labs hearts should be open to taking a few jabs In the chaos that ensues, and flames that brew what remains must be what’s true From rubble to rubble claw, dig, and rebuild With a memory of what was and an unwavering optimism for what could be

Q: So you’ve hit a brick wall? You are feeling underwhelmed, life has had more than its fair share of below-the-belt swings at you. What now? It is important to know when to let go of seemingly hopeless situations, whether in your career, personal relationships, or your mediocre Valorant campaigns…

Fiction — The Ikea lamp with the silk pink pillowcase draped over it, the make shitft bin in the corner that doubles as a trashball hoop, the newly acquired love for looped guitar riffs as my silence keeps me company. …

spend as much time inside your head as… —

A poem — I open my notes and start writing in hopes that the words I look for find me and find themselves so I may find myself in them I am burdened with so many questions that will forever remain unanswered Like the cliché inquisition on the purpose of life and existence and the lack…

FICTION I walked into the office this morning with little to no memory of the events that I had given permission to occur. Two days ago, I had walked out of a meeting with the managing partners and a very important client to answer a phone call, and no one…

Poetry — Solidified in history, a beacon of time immemorial, a time troops rallied, a time cries were background music, a time children guarded the villages, as their fathers went to the frontlines, Martyr. History recalls the time the tide swung in our favor, blood shed, one of ours, heads bowed, brows filled with sweat, eyes reddened with determination, a thirst for blood, a man for a man, a whole nation for a man, spurred by a dead man, Martyr.

The only things the depressed fail to detach from is depression — If depression was a parable, the depressed are promised eternal life, since, salvation is a gift for detached souls, detachment from worldly things, detachment from oneself. The only things the depressed fail to detach from is depression, and a lack of ignorance, and some form of crutch, maybe alcohol, or spontaneous tears, all for the sake of wetting one’s eyes.