Issue 1: City Series

CITY SERIES: A LOVE LETTERFor the love of where we’re from. 


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Dear Atlanta,

October 10, 2018

I believe the saying goes, “if you love something set it free. If it comes back its yours. If not, it was never meant to be.”

Hawaii. Tennessee. Illinois. Texas. Colorado. Five states later, and I never imagined after parting ways at the age of six, I’d get the chance to be back at my birthplace. Being a military kid, you really just never know.

During my early years you paved my childhood. From my first real friendships, to walking to and fromschool every day with my sisters, to my earliest memories of holiday celebrations; my initial childhood impression belongs to you.

When I moved back for high school, you were the gift that just kept giving. You gave me my very first concert at the Philips Arena, from none other than The Weeknd, whom I adore. You gave me two lifelong bestfriends that understand and accept me for all my quirks and imperfections. You gave me my first boyfriend. You gave me a prom-to-remember with a scandalous dress that my father will definitely never forget. Here iswhere I experienced the rollercoaster ride and phases that are being a growing adolescent. You were present every step of the way.

Oh, and how I miss Centennial Park and its glaring Ferris wheel, and Piedmont Park with its endlessgreen. I yearn to have again quality, convenient shopping in my vicinity. I have to admit, the shopping here in D.C. isn’t bad at all, but it does not compare. I miss thrifting at “Little Five Points” while soaking in thehipster-artistic-out-of-the-box vibes, or heading to Lenox Square or Perimeter to do some high-end spending. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I even miss your bipolar weather. In my advantage, since no one in Atlanta can seem to drive in snow, I experienced the longest consecutive snow days off, ever.

Although we went our separate ways once again; I loved you, I set you free, and you came back to me.For that, I am forever grateful.

Love Always and Forever, Destiny Hodges

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Dear Berkeley, California,

You received me with open arms—I, a wide-eyed eighteen-year-old, born and raised in sleepy suburbia. I had known you before, but not closely, nor intimately. Our true meeting in the final days of summer overfloweth with nostalgia. I carried with me my wounds from being ripped from the beach and suddenly placed amidst the city; you took these wounds and kissed them.

They told me that it would never work out between us—that you would chew me up and spit me out—but I had hope yet. Over time, I have learned of all your quirks and gems, some of my favorite being Yogurt Park and the homeless man who screams “hell yeah” at anyone and everyone who walks by. Sometimes I hunger for more, but I keep that a secret.

Eventually I will leave you and go off to love another, but know that you have forever changed me. You will always remain this intellectual hub for free speech, boba, passion, and romance. I remember walking into Berkeley with clean Stan Smiths, and I can’t help but feel angry at you for beating them up. But sometimes when I walk these streets (with both earbuds very unwisely in my ears), I remember why I loved you in the first place.

Can’t you just love me and not ask why? Love,

Laura Nguyen

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October 1, 2018

Dear Los Angeles, Every waking day I think about you, every weekend I come visit you. Every time I see your sparkling lights, your grey skyscrapers in a cloud of blue, my heart grows warm, like the sunshine that beams on you every afternoon. The city of angels - angels like my dad grew up, my mom had her best moments in her youth, and where I currently hold mine. The sun greets you with open arms and the world blesses you with not a cloud or a drop of rain that does not take away your shine. People hope to become stars as they travel far and wide to live in you, as you create a heaven for them. A heaven that I call home, a heaven where my biggest worries are how hot the sand is, or where the shade lies. I find myself in memories of you, memories of Griffith Observatory, where I felt on top of the world; memories of soft, dreamy music humming in my ears at Hollywood Forever; memories of the wind blowing in my hair in late May in Malibu. I can never fathom the thought of losing you one day, but one day these memories will be just a rectangle of a moment I captured in my young adult life. Moments I will always remember, moments that remind me of who I am. I say I hate Los Angeles, but what I hate is having an innate, unconditional, never ending love for a city that I will have to say goodbye to one day. A goodbye to my youth, a goodbye of the heaven I took solace in. Thank you, for being you, and thank you, for letting me be me.

Love always, Sarah Harwell

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Dear Pittsburgh,

Your sun-kissed yellow bridges and three rivers connect to the heart and soul of the Point State Park Fountain, splashing with spirit. You range from being a busy metropolitan area to being a placid forest with bursts of nature. Every now and then, a deer comes prancing from the woods and I no longer find it strange.

You have decades of culture embedded in yourself—each neighborhood is unique. From Lawrenceville with “hip” and “trendy” cuisine areas to the North Side with the city’s most colorful landmark, you never fail to bring upon new adventures.

You bring upon mixed emotions. In the summer, I love you. In the fall, you grow cold towards me and I grow cold towards you. In the winter, you devour my fingertips, turning them into a bruised purple that I didn’t ask for. In the spring, we begin to warm up to each other. The cycle then starts all over again. I think I slowly get used to you as the years go by.

Maybe we’ll grow to completely love each other someday. Still, I thank you for the memories and the endless discoveries.

Love, Krista Nguyen

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