A love letter to the U.S. Mint’s newest retiree. By Luke Zinger  Illustration by Isabelle Oh In my hometown upstate, there is a large plastic fish head whose five-foot wide mouth juts out from the carpet. The fish is actually an exhibit in my favorite childhood museum, and every few months from ages four to eight, I would look forward to making a wish while dropping a coin down its mouth. I never remembered to bring a coin myself, so I would plead for my parents (or grandpare

Stories from college, Paris, and among the oranges. By Kate Sibery Illustrations by Nini Vilac For a long time I told the story as follows: my parents met at a Halloween party in college, my mom was dressed as a farmer in denim overalls and my dad wasn’t dressed up as anything because that is just typical of him. It has since been clarified that my parents knew of each other before then because their respective roommates—Jen and Brady, who are married to this day—were dating.

On Missed Connections and interstellar radio waves. By Magda Lena Griffel Illustration by Vanessa Zhou On a Monday in 2008, at exactly 7 p.m. EST, NASA  beamed the Beatles’ “Across the Universe” from Pasadena, CA through deep space towards Polaris, the North Star. Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe… It wasn’t the first, the last, or the most technologically significant message sent from Earth ac

Some thoughts on the recent snow in New York. By Kate Sibery Illustration by Iris Pope Ten days ago they were predicting a lot of snow. “They” being my grandmother’s reference point for all information relating to weather, current events, and anything else you might read about in the newspaper or see on T.V. “They are saying it might get up into the 70s this week.” “They say it’s a good time to start shopping at Fairway.” “They say interest rates are way down.” “They” is her

How to seize your New York City.  By Tierney Smink Illustration by Vanessa Zhou I was sitting on the subway, minding my own business a little too well. My earphones crammed into my ears, cancelling out the noise around me, and my nose stuck into my book of the week. There was no one sitting next to me; it was a late Thursday night, so it made sense. The only other person in my vicinity was a man sitting diagonally across from me. At first glance, he seemed slightly forgettabl

Barnard’s production of Trojan Women and its historical antecedents. By Jack Bradner Illustration by Truman Dickerson An email from my Lit Hum Professor popped into my inbox with the playbill for Barnard Theatre’s then-upcoming rendition of Trojan Women . Set in a Greek war camp, the play stages the aftermath of the Trojan War with Troy’s women detained and kidnapped by various Greek soldiers. On Oct. 17, Barnard and Columbia students recreated Euripides’ play with the Troja

On quiet. By Gabriela McBride Illustration by Kathleen Halley-Segal The sonic experience of New York City is one of constant inundation. Amongst cars honking at freshly green traffic lights, jackhammers clanking, and the bangs of early-morning-scaffolding construction, moments that might begin to resemble silence are few and far between. The bit of me that resents being raised in the relentless cacophony of New York City yearns for the quiet and stillness of wide open outdoor

Reflections on protest in the archives. by Magda Lena Griffel Illustration by Isabelle Oh Rumor had it the Rare Book and Manuscript Library had “materials” from the Spring 2024 protests. Curious, I hiked to Butler’s sixth floor, wedged my possessions into my designated locker, and entered the hallowed Woods reading room. Golf pencil sharpened, note paper stacked, I sifted through massive manila folders to find the latest addition, labeled “ Israel-Gaza War Protest .” I flippe

Navigating queer dating culture on campus . By Zayna Jamil Illustration by Ines Alto Four years, 48 months, 1344 days — I had been waiting for this moment. After years of imagining the new life ahead of me, the car was packed and ready to drive off with my suitcases, picture frames of hometown friends, and a loving family trying to delay saying goodbye to their newly-adult daughter at college. After a four hour drive, I stood at the towering gates of Columbia, intimidated, bu

A healthcare horror story. By Iris Eisenman Illustration by Isabelle Oh On a dark and stormy night, a Barnard freshman takes the treacherous journey across the vast expanse of Broadway. Every step is a gamble in her pink fuzzy slippers on the slick brick paving. Nevertheless, she persists, midnight munchies guiding her path. Will she ever arrive at JJ’s pearly gates? It is possible that no woman has ever walked this far. Shuffling past the half-living spirits floating in the

The Song of Sigaween . By Schuyler Daffey Illustration by Isabelle Oh Sing to me, O Muse , of that night of horrors, of the perilous pregames and dastardly downtown frat events endured by our heroine this All Hallows Eve. Sing of the many foes encountered, the vast sums of money spent on tickets, the mystery bruises that bloomed overnight on our heroine’s ankles. 9:47 p.m.:   Sing to me,  as our heroine heads to the pregame 30 minutes behind schedule. Once there, she realizes

Wisdom from the ghosts of Butler Stacks. By Luke Zinger Illustration by Lilah Chen NINTH FLOOR STACKS, BUTLER LIBRARY. It’s almost midnight on the night before a midterm worth 45% of your grade. You’ve consumed nothing but Blue Java hazelnut coffee and a stale slice of lemon loaf since 11 a.m. Out of the corner of your eye, you start to see strange words swimming around your field of vision, appearing on the walls, on the arms of the chairs, and on the table you’re working on

Dialogues with the deceased. By Lucy Mason Illustration by Jiaying Geng On September 16, 1776, following a disastrous defeat at Kips Bay, the Continental Army retreated in shame to the hills of Harlem Heights, today called Morningside Heights. As the Redcoats closed in, these American revolutionaries launched their first notable assault. Although the skirmish was a far cry from a divisive victory, it was recorded with ample patriotic vigor as an important turning point for wa

Worshipping our dark (roast) Lord.  By Maia Zasler Illustration by Justin Chen Double, double toil and trouble, latte burn and mocha bubble. All hail coffee, our dark Lord !  Dearest Fellow Worshipper,  There is no escape from the alluring powers of Keurig grounds or the mystical steam of the French press. If you just thought to yourself, Who, me ? I don’t drink coffee!  while a self-satisfied smile settled on your face, I’ll be the first to break the news: The sentiment appl

Phantoms of gender By Tierney Smink Illustration by Em Bennet Now, it’s a given. As you walk into the classroom, you shut the door behind you.  This seems obvious, keeping the door shut to facilitate learning or mitigate distractions. But for the first few weeks of Spanish this year, the class was a door-open, welcoming place in the hallway. Before we knew it was haunted.  It’s a haunting both physical and metaphorical. I walk into the classroom casually, almost forgetting th

The tale of a freshman seeking fellow Humanities majors . By Ana Sorrentino Illustration by Iris Pope It was in my second week at Columbia that I began to notice a foul scent stubbornly clinging to the air. It lingered in the halls, followed me into the elevators, and coiled itself between the crevices of the stacks. I told myself it was only my imagination. Perhaps I was still getting used to life in a new city. But the more it remained, I began to realize that this was diff

Revisiting the erotic thriller.  By Neda Ravandi Illustration by Justin Chen In July I was obsessed with James Spader. Houston heat meant long, sun-soaked afternoons, which I’d spend on my bed, laptop open to a sketchy movie site when the humidity got too unbearable for tanning by the pool. So, my Halloween began in the summer, when I watched David Cronenberg’s Crash,  a decision prompted not by an interest in cars or stomach-churning violence, but more so James Spader. After

A drunken ethnography. By Selma White-Pascual Illustration by Kathleen Halley-Segal I clutch the gate next to me for balance as I shove my sweaty feet into a pair of six-inch heels I’ve just pulled out of my now deflated bag, perched atop a little ledge. Also on the ledge: a sultry perfume I’ve chosen for the night, makeup to retouch my face, banana blossom leftovers from Thai Diner on Mott Street, and the loose 20 dollar bill I’ll be using tonight. I’ve exchanged my trusty s

My unexpected Google Maps diary and the comfort of being a regular. By Zoe Gallis Illustration by Selin Ho Pandoras  is a Berlin church...

The art of physical movement as a means of personal expression.  By Sara Omer Illustration by Isabelle Oh After a thrilling and chaotic...