• Elliana Reynolds

    embodied

    on having needs and making them known (sometimes)

    April 8, 2021
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    The “I Want” Song Throughout my senior year of high school, a friend and I spent hours each week in a local musical theater workshop, where we wrote and staged an original show. Every Tuesday night, we’d arrive at the theater, and the two men who ran the program would look at one another, then […]

    spring is sprung

    a musical guide of brown’s campus

    April 1, 2021
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    Ah, yes, spring in Providence. The air is cold, the ground is always oddly moist, and the pollen-laden air makes you feel like the environment itself is trying to bring about your demise. But there are some bright spots—most notably, the fact that the Providence winter is now over, so there are finally literal bright […]

    coffee grounds

    comfort against the cold and other biting sensations

    March 25, 2021
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    The sound: a soft gurgle, a sharp hiss, followed by a steady pit-pat, like rain from a spout. The smell: dark and bitter, yet warm against my nose—second only to the taste, which bites when black and dances when there’s cream.  It’s difficult to pinpoint my first experience with coffee. It might’ve been when I […]

    the many-colored cure

    music, color, and the fine line between coping and escaping

    March 5, 2021
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    At a jazz band workshop years ago, a charming clinician with a single earring told us about the splashes of red he saw each time our drummer hit the cymbals. I remember feeling a little envious, because I too wanted the music to filter through my brain and manifest in fireworks of color. But even […]

    my dad loves to ride his bike

    the intersection of guilt and love

    February 12, 2021
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    CONTENT WARNING: Violence, car accidents, near-death experience I took a nap that day. It was warm. The very last day of April. I had begun a relationship earlier, around 2 a.m. I was happy. Euphoric even. But that unadulterated euphoria was nipped right in the bud as darkness descended on my house. My mom was […]