BY ALYZA TAGUILASO. 0 begins with an explosion. / 1 My great-great-grandparents were making love when the First World War decided to happen.

BY AI JIANG. I hated my name until the end of high school, especially during my kindergarten and elementary school years.

BY ISA LORENZO. There was a girl who loved to play in a field.

BY ANNA TERESA SLATER. I want / the old man on the unicycle to listen / to my prayers.

Six years have passed since you last read a physical book.

my father was thirty-five when my mother / had me.

BY PLOI PIRAPOKIN. Growing up, my mother cleaned my plates of rice and noodles.

BY MUGDHAA RANADE. Imagine a MONTAGE in a film (don’t ask what genre of film, it’s still being written): we open with a WIDE SHOT

BY MARK ANTHONY CAYANAN. My right foot’s chafed, we’re lost, and love’s a street with a name / I can’t pronounce.

BY MAX PASAKORN. 1. There is a stall here that is as old as you. It has seen how the concrete rises and falls.

BY JACK MALIK. a diluted, unconfirmed mocha middle-east / skin—mixture of herbs & a medley of origin:

BY J. MARCELO BORROMEO. ‘Do they sound like you?’ I asked.