Issue 580 | The Sun Magazine

April 2024

Readers Write

Yard Sales

Hunting for bargains, letting go of possessions, emptying out a home

By Our Readers
Quotations

Sunbeams

Science and technology multiply around us. To an increasing extent they dictate the languages in which we speak and think. Either we use those languages, or we remain mute.

J.G. Ballard

The Sun Interview

Down in the Valley

Wendy Liu on the Tech Industry’s Power to Divide Us

Once I saw the development of new technology in class terms—how a particular kind of technology gives one group of people power over another—it started to feel more sinister.

By Finn Cohen
Essays, Memoirs, & True Stories

Surrogates

Twin had lived inside a concrete kennel for four of her five years. Wylie, who also lived inside a concrete box, had gone to prison as a teen. He’d cared for Twin since she was a puppy, which meant he had likely opened her kennel to feed her and let her out thousands of times.

By Jennifer Bowen
Fiction

The Peaceful Circle—Year in a Wild Marsh

@grimeygrimey: Projected this on the wall so that it was superimposed on my TV, then dosed LSD and played Mario Kart 64 until dawn. Yoshi was in the willow maze! Don’t hit that muskrat, bro! It was sick.

By Leath Tonino
Fiction

Bridge Kid

As I was dabbing up cookie crumbs, the toddler appeared at the top of the stairs, sucking his thumb and crying. Only then did it occur to me that the boys had not been back up in some time. I patted his damp hair and went to check on his brothers.

By Chelsea Bowlby
Photography

A Thousand Words

A Thousand Words features photography so rich with narrative that it tells a story all on its own.

Photograph By Eric Davidove
Photography

Estate Sale

On the first day of the estate sale I strung a backdrop from a tree in the front yard and did what any photographer trying to deal with a difficult personal situation would do: I took pictures.

Photographs By Gloria Baker Feinstein
Poetry

King Rail Reserve

Wind-plowed furrows in ice across the marsh. / Cattails frozen suppliant. Loosestrife withered // colorless under a bright but ineffective sun.

By Glenn Stowell
Poetry

When I Come to Get My Things

I am amazed at how much of my shit I left / with her, and to see it piled in her hallway / clears space in me for what? // I wander my new emptiness / as the small bag of her things I’ve brought / weighs down my hand

By Matthew Siegel
Poetry

Pink Suede Boots

Decades old now, / but the leather’s held up, and the curve / of the instep is still elegant. / I gave them away to my goddaughter, sixteen / and blossoming.

By Alison Luterman