Tag Archives: Vivien Song

Funeral Orations

The strawberry rots that season, all seeds and no flesh, shrinking into itself like something unholy. You brush this off because it is ordinary, mundane, because you are not bitten and bitter in your grief. This, you tell me at … Continue reading

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The First Law

There is no way to move the body. Not nearly             enough force to unfurl the soft pleats of this pinafore dress, nor enough velocity to chase             the sullen bay. A teacher once told me to look for constants, inertia, paralysis. … Continue reading

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Fault Lines

Vivien Song is a high school junior from Pleasanton, California. When she’s not cramming for calculus, you can find her bullet journaling in a coffee shop. She hopes you’ve had a great day so far.

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Letters from the Kitchen Pantry

I renounce rice when I am nine, the way one             might renounce Barbie dolls, or multiplication sheets, or vocabulary quizzes—unpretentious,             without pomp. Baba continues to serve me braised pork belly and tomatoes with egg, eyes soft like             steamed gingered fish, … Continue reading

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