This first issue gathers a small set of voices responding to the same invitation: to tell a memory as it was first understood, and then again as it is understood now. What changes is not just the story, but the self who tells it.
Curated and edited by Annika Shenoy.
by Anonymous
The first time, I remember the stairwell as loud—my footsteps echoing, my breath ahead of me, the door already closing...
The second time, the stairwell is quiet. The echo is gone. I realise now that what I heard then was panic rehearsing itself.
Editor’s note: This piece uses repetition sparingly, allowing the emotional shift between versions to emerge through sound and absence rather than explanation.
by R.
I thought silence meant mercy. I told myself that leaving things unsaid was a form of kindness...
Years later, I understand silence differently. It was not mercy. It was fear wearing a softer name.
Editor’s note: The restraint here is deliberate; the power of the piece lies in what remains implicit across both versions of the memory.