Street View

Thi Tang ‘25

This piece, "Street View,” is one of simplicity. I wanted to depict the serenity and beauty of a street in Brooklyn, NY. With quick strokes and gestural lines, I hope that the viewer can feel the comfort that I felt when I was there.

What Could Have Been Us

What does it feel like to die before living?

Are your joints aching and compressing

themselves?

You’re no different from an old man draped in

button-ups and shoes too big to fit him, each stripe and

sleeve wrapped around his arm twice before fitting snug.

Granddad died long before his heart stopped. His eyes

were olives, and his vocal cords swayed back

and forth, but it wasn’t him.

I could see behind those eyes and sharpened cheeks.

He was here yesterday, but left this morning.

Granddad would never do that to us, my child.

But we dance around his stone and pluck each gold petal

to say hello.

Tell me, can you swim?

Can you swim with yourself staring back at you,

eyes shut and only willing to open once life

has greeted you and left a kiss on your nose?

Did you stumble into the deep end of the

water, thrashing against the walls

to keep yourself alive?

Did your heart slow or quicken when the shreds of red, the only home you knew,

floated at the surface? Keep your arms above the surface, my child.

Raise your head above our water.

Keep it there until you are forced to go under.

My child, press your fingertips against my walls. I will trace your way out.

Promise to hold my hand, and we'll hold each other close where our eyes

can stare open wide. Let us breathe in together.

Were your eyes open to witness the unraveling of your DNA, your veins

Losing their electricity?

Do you even know what electricity is?

Oh, my child, it is lovely.

It’s what gets Daddy out of bed, and even though his eyes are bloodshot with no less

than three hours of shut-eye under his belt, he fights for us.

You are the pump that keeps us kicking and fighting every day.

You are the electricity that warms your blankets, broils your food,

And bathes us as we let the water pour against our skin.

You are as buoyant as a buoy and as stubborn as a bull.

Just like mommy.

My best friend was my sister.

We were joined at the hip, she and I.

Do you make bracelets with

Your sister, my child?

Be sure to be nice to her. Tell her

You love her. Braid her

hair, if you will, but no dying until

I say so.

Oh, my child, I count the days we

have left.

To feel your arms, cup my hands

around your face, the one that shall own

this world. Walk with pep in

your step, wearing heels that

are two sizes too big.

Greet every person in need.

This world

is cruel enough to shove others

to the side.

My child, we love you.

We will see you soon.

Emily Ramirez ‘26

This piece was based on the experience of a mother experiencing the miscarriage of one of the twins she is pregnant with. This piece attempts to reach outside the comfort of the audience and strike at the rawness within emotions. The harsh language and rather crude descriptions are to test the boundaries of the audience, as life tests our own boundaries every day.