The Harvard Advocate

2003 When I was nine years old, my dad killed our dog Max. That was something he would regret for the rest of his life; something he had…

Years from now, she will remember the ash that followed her. The cities charred and smoldered behind her, plumes of smoke like storm clouds…

My city, hardly a city, still swimming like a newborn— two winters into this dream the streets feel pale and distant. I made my room so…