• Kaitlan Bui

    by ourselves, with each other

    books, politics, and the sunshine of strangers

    April 1, 2021
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    I’m sitting outside my public library, you know, the one that issued me a library card when I was eight. I remember that day had been a proud one for me: I had just learned how to write in cursive—crossing my t’s on the dotted middle line, making sure the loop of the lowercase y […]

    and now the piñata’s burst

    on the miracle of growing up

    February 5, 2021
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    Recently, I’ve been enjoying my carrots. You might think that’s a strange way to start an essay (on growing up, no less—a very somber phenomenon), so you might be tempted to skip ahead to paragraph five and jump right into the meat of the words. But my essay is vegetarian, thank you very much, so […]

    collecting pieces of eternity

    on forgetting, family, and living as a human

    November 20, 2020
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    I have nearly forgotten the world. Some days, I even go without peeling my curtains back—sitting, hunched over a silly brick of data and lithium. I nibble on internet jokes written by strangers I don’t care about. I forget to dream, and sometimes I forget to breathe. I get writer’s block. A lot. I also […]

    charlie chaplin and the fairy

    a halloween story

    October 29, 2020
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    I don’t remember the last time I went trick-or-treating. I only remember the feeling.   I remember the nipping wind and the hint of oxygenated sugar it carried. Perfumes of candy wafted into my nostrils, and soft voices drifted into my ear canals. They beckoned me to come, come, come—and I would have, if not […]

    poetry is everything i don’t understand

    and other quarantine dilemmas

    September 18, 2020
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      for real it is confusing, and what is the point what is a poem what is the aesthetic is there an aesthetic what am i not getting here what am i not rhyming here hello, help hello   +++   “The Peace of Wild Things” by Wendell Berry   So, the legend is that […]