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Jaclyn Pahl

You sit beside people whose names you do not know and whose faces you could not easily recall, surrendering to the subway cars that move on a timer beneath the tides of the city, twenty-seven minutes deep before conceding, at last, that the accumulated neon lights and airborne channels of steam will not sustain you through the waves of change that seem to occupy the moment, the day, overtaking your thoughts until you have no thoughts left. For some reason, you watch the tunnels. This is your stop. You think about where everyone is going and why. Now, it's your turn.

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You switch cars like cities, because you've seen prairies and Toronto and Shoreditch and you wish you'd made New York before they changed the MetroCard but no matter, because you're off again, reaching for the cusp of dawn. The morning stars are sinking now, and the angles of breaking daylight fall sharp across the buildings.

I'm Jaclyn. Raised in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, I have long been intrigued by how the world influences our identity. As a writer and cultural commentator, I examine contemporary life and culture, often exploring the themes of nostalgia and societal transformation.

My work moves between fiction, criticism, and cultural writing, with a particular interest in literature, memory, place, identity, and the contradictions of the modern world.

Jaclyn Pahl

"To the perfect shape comes common ground."  -- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (1855)

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