{"id":1387,"date":"2021-08-20T22:19:23","date_gmt":"2021-08-20T22:19:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/?p=1387"},"modified":"2021-08-20T22:19:23","modified_gmt":"2021-08-20T22:19:23","slug":"impure-heart","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/2021\/08\/20\/impure-heart\/","title":{"rendered":"Impure Heart"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center\"><em>Featured in 2015 Spring Issue of Rambunctious<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<h4>By Aryana Nazem, &#8217;17<\/h4>\n\n\n\n<p>The first time I saw a heartbeat my mind changed. The way the blood glowed such a vibrant red, and the muscle breathed on its own. Hundreds of veins of a shade of blue found only on lined paper, was like aerial view tattooed on this heart. In and out it pumped, not stopping, even when out of the body. I was afraid to blink, I couldn\u2019t miss this intricate phenomenon. It took all of about a second for me to loose my infatuated daze. The heart was placed in sterilized ice so cold it formed ice crystals. In and out, only slower this time. The beautiful blue darkened, a shade of purple filling the tiny tubes. My eyes danced over all the red and saw a delicate balloon of royal purple. It was quivering on this machine, that just a few seconds ago was pulled from a human. Steady hands around this blob of red and the smell of burning flesh made the room feel even colder. The blood was running through the ice now, looking like food coloring dispersing into a snow cone. It was almost over. The heart no longer went in and out as frequently, reminding me of the murmur of a baby\u2019s snore breathing slowly. Clunk. Then the heart was gone, sewed away, hoping never to reveal its beauty again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Aryana Nazem, &#8217;17<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"full-width-single-post.php","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[35,10],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1387"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1387"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1387\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1387"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1387"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/jdlitmag.org\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1387"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}