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There’s something about art that too often goes unnoticed: art requires we engage. Each month we receive thousands of submissions of prose, poetry, and photography from people hoping to be published in The Sun. And we engage with each submission in hopes of finding those that will resonate most with you. Our commitment is to bring you the best we can find, the writing and photography that help to unwrap the layers of gauze we wind around ourselves and which obscure the things that matter most. We are profoundly grateful for your support.
By Rob BowersDecember 2024A broken clock, a chance encounter, a long-distance relationship
By Our ReadersNovember 2024There’s a small but strong subculture of partner dance in New York City, grounded in a love of blues music, the desire to express oneself physically, and the joy of communicating through touch. These photos were taken at public dances and nightclubs in Manhattan between 2015 and 2019.
November 2024It just takes the right person, at the right time, to light the right spark and make what previously would have seemed impossible the law of the land. When I was a child, Somalia had a government. They might not have one again for the rest of my life.
By Dash LewisNovember 2024A Thousand Words features photography so rich with narrative that it tells a story all on its own.
October 2024Like the breeze that blew through the campus that day, whipping up the leaves and our hair, the student strike had stirred me, as if from sleep. Certainly, in deciding to march despite my fears, I woke up a little: I saw more clearly than I had before that my teachers weren’t my parents and my parents weren’t God and that I could risk a little disapproval without my world falling apart.
By Sy SafranskyOctober 2024Missed calls, misheard lyrics, mistaken identities
By Our ReadersSeptember 2024It is easy to forget your own body with a patient under your hands. In training we learned how to call the air ambulance—how to say the right words on the radio, hand off our patient to the flight crew, and keep our heads beneath the spinning helicopter blades.
By Luke PattersonSeptember 2024We started swerving across the double line, back and forth, up hills where the headlights beamed into the canopy of the forest, leaving a pocket of darkness below, an open mouth from which an oncoming car could spit forth at any moment. I clutched the driver’s seat in front of me, bracing for impact. But each time, the car settled back onto the road, and we sped downhill again. And then there was nothing in the windshield but trees.
By Cynthia Marie HoffmanAugust 2024Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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