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Our Creative Response to the 10th Goal:

Reduced Inequalities

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Poem in response to Reduced Inequalities
October 2018

And our ancestors scrapped like matadors,

Blood-lusted and blind, lashing madly out

At any sign of something different. We soured in the heat, clumping and clotting, no uniting flow...

By Ilana Arougheti 
Fiction in response to Reduced Inequalities
October 2018
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Whiiirrr whiiirr.

The camera clicks on, its blood red eye blinking in sudden birth. The image shifts slightly, then zooms in on the slouched form of a man, wearing a rumpled black suit...

By Caroline Sun
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October 2018

We are equal.

No person is worth less than another.

Age, race, sex, class-

None of that should matter...

By Kelsey Cashman
Poem in response to Reduced Inequalities
October 2018
Nonfiction in response to Reduced Inequalities
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Whenever I visit India, I am always surprised to see mansions owned by Bollywood film stars located next to dilapidated houses. Not far, I can see the slums of India filled with makeshift houses so poorly constructed that look like...

By Amrita Bhasin
for #5. georgia (graphic credit christin
October 2018

I remember when I was younger and eavesdropped on my parents’ conversations

They talked society and politics

I remember when I was younger and saw them struggle...

By Georgia Bernbaum
Poem in response to Reduced Inequalities
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October 2018

People always say the thing about being in love

Is that no matter who it’s with it will be blessed from above.

Yet another thing that people tend to say

Is that sinful love is being gay...

By Grace Muresan
Poem in response to Reduced Inequalities
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Fiction in response to Reduced Inequalities
October 2018

“Leon!”

Leon looked around and saw his friend, David, waving at him. He rolled his wheelchair up to David.

“Hey, man,” he said. “Is Sam here yet?"

By Karen Wu
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Fiction in response to Reduced Inequalities
October 2018

“Papa?” I looked up at him. “Good luck.” “Don’t you worry ‘bout me, baby,” he said in his trademark deep voice. He crouched down to hug me. I went up the stairs to the bedroom I shared with my three-year-old brother, Jaymore, as Mama said her goodbyes...

By Grace Muresan
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