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I wish this time would never go away.

THE GIRL WITH NO NAME BY LAWRENCE F FARRAR 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17

She picked up a fallen flower and cupped it in her hands. “Life is so sad,” she said. “Nothing lasts.”

As the unimaginable reality

of the military coup unfolded

I wrote incessantly in my diary.

A FIRE OF MEMORIES BY AURORA LOPEZ CANCINO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17
My parents asked me to tear the pages from my journal and throw them into the fire, along with my books, magazines, and records. The fire of my memories rose in the air, leaving no trace but a black ashen place within me.

We’ll never get out of here.

LOST AND FOUND BY ARMEL DAGORN 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17

The fear couldn’t be ignored or denied any more but all the same not much was said. What could they say? They were lost on trails hardly anyone walked on.

An epic ballad of weariness of the road.

“Pulled into Nazareth, feeling about half past dead/ Just lookin for a place where I can lay my head”—this song, The Weight, by Robbie Robertson as performed by the Band, is an epic ballad of weariness of the road. The road—the long winding road—has been a source of inspiration for many great folk singers, country balladeers, and classic and southern rock troubadours in American music.

PULLED INTO NAZARETH BY WILLIAM BLICK 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 17