• Self-Portrait as GPS

    How the steering wheel / points nowhere except towards itself. / And such is the spinning of the mind: / everywhere. When we drove into new / cities it was only a different shape of haze.

    By Steven Chung

Fiction Friday

  • Tickets to Disneyland

    ‘Bonita, that engineer from Spain who always worked late, must have gone home already. Yong looked down at his ironed shirt and felt disappointed—if he had done the third floor half an hour earlier he might have seen her.’

    By Fan Wu

Fiction Friday

  • You are Nothing But a Dog

    “When she began crying, I thought about the rainfall in Viet Nam, how she said it was so heavy a person could hide in it.”

    By Vt Hung

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