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I’m in a shopping-mall restroom in California, where the roll of toilet paper is almost as big as a tire. Three more giant rolls are stacked on a sterile white shelf.
By Bonnie MaguireMarch 1993An intuitive decision, a trip to the park, a confluence of yellow
By Our ReadersMarch 1993Giselle didn’t get up and leave when people started talking about the war. She stayed in the conversation, switched to waving her hands in front of other people’s faces instead of her own. When she listened in on the next table, she leaned over and said Pardonnez-moi before offering a pithy rejoinder to something she’d overheard. These talks were possible because people all around her were thinking, she was thinking, it was understood that everyone was thinking, that everyone should think.
By Dana BranscumJanuary 1993I’d planned to arrive in Japan with practically no social resources. I had some money, and my pack was heavy, but I hadn’t bothered to learn Japanese. I wanted to see what would happen. I arrived shaggy, hot, dizzy, and alone.
By Steve MilesDecember 1992It was a long bus ride from Mexico City to San Miguel, coming as it did on the heels of the overnight flight. You were glad when it ended and at the same time you would have preferred to keep on going.
By Arthur DemblingNovember 1992A new lifeguard, a poinsettia-plant-watering mystery woman, a big sister at the birth of her brother
By Our ReadersOctober 1992Two head masks from West Africa, / helmets of rough wood, / hang on my study wall.
By Ken AutreySeptember 1992Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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