Our outward movements often encourage a turning inwards of our gaze, a reorientation of perspective. Maya Gillett, Bystanding Ryan Evans, Something Close To It Zoe Ginsberg, Weight Colin Anderson, Follow Me Aubrey Pongluelert, Photo Essay: Shifting Editor in Chief: Laurie
Issue: Summer 2016: Inward
by Maya Gillett
At sixteen, I can see that they are so eager to help and so ready and that the woman across the desk is nodding along, humoring them, being kind, indulging this feeling. My parents—good people, thinking people—do not understand; I do not understand. None of us will ever understand.
by Ryan Evans
He’s meant to move. They can see it in his eyes and the way he wanders while he lectures. His feet shuffle like a James Brown bass line and he paces with the intensity of, well, not a tiger, but something. Something close to it.
by Zoe Ginsberg
My father made us breakfast every day, whether or not we wanted it. I always wanted it. I had two favorite things for breakfast—French toast with maple syrup and egg in a hat. I liked my food to have character.
by Colin Anderson
Kim was Dad’s friend. She was nice enough.
by Aubrey Pongluelert
