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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 collection of neon lights and 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. 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 prairie and city and Shoreditch and you wish you'd made New York before they changed the MetroCard but it makes no difference, 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 shapes our identity. As a writer, I examine contemporary life and culture, exploring the themes of nostalgia and societal transformation. My work spans fiction, criticism, and cultural commentary, with particular focus on place, memory, medium, and the contradictions of modern life.

Jaclyn Pahl
Contact

For correspondence, professional inquiries, or questions about my work, please use the form below.

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

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