Author Archives: Jonathan Berger

Cynthia doesn’t like the looks she’s been getting. Since starting Sophomore year, she’s been getting ugly looks from girls who never paid attention to her before weird attention from boys in her class and hungry stares from men. Her father’s … Continue reading →

The party was going great everyone was having a blast and a lot of folks were helping so nobody was getting stressed out. It was hard not to notice an interesting tension that was building, though. There was an energy … Continue reading →

Chilly and moist, I hear an orchestra of highway and television. The neighborhood below and beside me generates the soundtrack. The stars visible from the roof are few and far between above the clouds but still there are so many … Continue reading →

It could have gone disastrously and it did. I saw you again at the usual place. I was taking up space. You were taking my breath, as usual. You were taking in drinks at an unusual pace. I don’t know … Continue reading →

She was saying how you gotta get paid for your art. You gotta take a stand. I nodded, excited by her words, by her enthusiasm and integrity. Artistic integrity is easy to maintain on Sixth Street. I wondered, though, if … Continue reading →

The dove flies, free of borders, free to travel where she wants but she is a slave to the wind, and prey to the hawk, and in desperate need of rest after too much exertion. It’s true that freedom has … Continue reading →

When next I travel to the reality next store, I’m bringing a rubber band strong enough to spring me back if necessary, so if I don’t like this one, I’ll have an equal opportunity to switch back. I mean, boldly … Continue reading →

In the quiet space, mediate, and let the silence overtake you. Allow the stillness to settle and the lowly voices to command. Listen carefully, be patient with the light of the soft words available. Let them flow. Knowingly absorb something … Continue reading →

If you’re heading North on the Six train at One Two Five look for the shiny bald head and pull him off his phone offer him a peanut butter cup. If he says “No,” ask him what he did with … Continue reading →

She laid the claim long ago and no one said a word. They simply let her twist in the wind, her wounds unprotected festering, dripping away. Rose had been bleeding ever since. When others spoke, they began to believe, and … Continue reading →