Stray Shot 2018 by The Frederick Gunn School

STRAY SHOT 2018 Editors: Ethan Cox, Michael Esposito, Brett Matthews, Keely McGann, Levi Mercier, Huy Pham, Griff Smith, Hannah Tulchinsky, Cole Varney, Emma Wang Faculty Advisor: Mr. Benson

CONTENTS

Cover illustration by Meiye Song and Phil Liu It’s just paint. We set up the tripod, cut the cola plastic bottle in half, drilled a hole in the cap, and hung the bottle on the tripod with a string. Then we just put paint in it and let it go. The special thing about this one is that we put in red and blue at the same time without mixing them. So they form nice colors. - Meiye Song

Guttersnipe (after Claude Clark) by Hunter Sansbury………………………………………. 1 Foreign fall by Ariel Airan Wen……………………………………………………………... 2 Code Switching in Contemporary Poetry by Noemi Neubauerova………………………... 4 sincerely, me (a sequel) by Clare Costello…………………………………………………... 7 Future by Ethan Cox…………………………………………………………………………. 10 I can’t do it by Ethan Cox……………………………………………………………………. 11 Mon Vie by Ethan Cox……………………………………………………………………….. 12 Spring by Michael Esposito………………………………………………………………….. 13 An Old Sole by Sabryna Coppola…………………………………………………………….. 14 In Amber by Sabryna Coppola……………………………………………………………….. 15 The Substance Found Behind the Description of Nature by Phoebe Coppola……….…… 17 Coyote by Griff Smith………………………………………………………………………… 20 The Word Brigadiers by Levi Mercier………………………………………………………. 22 Ode to Lavender by Gwen Brown…………………………………………………………… 23 Cool Summer Nights by Gwen Brown………………………………………………………. 25 Ode to Acne by Gwen Brown………………………………………………………………… 26 Anisa by Noor Alsairafi……………………………………………………………………….. 28 Mujtaba by Noor Alsairafi…………………………………………………………………….. 29 Candy by Hannah Tulchinsky………………………………………………………………… 30 A Short Fable by Hannah Tulchinsky………………………………………………………... 31 Berlin by Michael Kassis……………………………………………………………………... 32 Winter’s Day by Will Hambley…………………………………………………………….... 36 Edgy Teen by Cole Varney…………………………………………………………………… 37 A Letter I Won’t Let You Read by Cole Varney…………………………………………… 38 Light by Bonnie Bao………………………………………………………………………….. 39 Poem by Bonnie Bao………………………………………………………………………….. 40

Somaliland Soccer by Yamna Abdi Jama……………………………………………………. 41 Ebrahim by Noor Alsairafi……………………………………………………………..……... 44 Hasan Noor Alsairafi…………………………………………………………………...…….. 45 The Recurring Dream by Keely McGann…………………………………………………… 46 Sonnet (with a coda) by Keely McGann……………………………………………………... 47 The Last Meal by Erica Minjia Zhang……………………………………………………….. 48 Ceramic glazed pot by Kate Hayward………………………………………………………... 50 Wilson’s Artistic Inspiration by Jenna Sittler………………………………………………. 51 Again by Bella Byrne…………………………………………………………………………. 54 Mona by Noor Alsairafi……………………………………………………………..………… 56 Scream by Bella Byrne……………………………………………………………………….. 57 If You Know by Bella Byrne…………………………………………………………………. 58 The Significance of the Landscapes in Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Sylvia Wang……….. 61 Dictionary of Adventures in the Life of Huy Pham by Huy Pham………………………… 64 The Girl with the Pearl Earring by Andrew Byrne-King…………………………………... 77 Looking out the window by Emma Ziyuan Wang…………………………………………... 78 City and Country by Emma Ziyuan Wang…………………………………………………... 79 Honeysuckle by Sophie McAndrew………………………………………………………….. 80 Poetry Zeitgeist Essay by Sophie McAndrew……………………………………………….. 83 I Love you, I Love You Not by Talia Zabit………………………………………………….. 86 Oxagons by Tony Zhang……………………………………………………………………… 89 I Am Prometheus by Rachel Cohen…………………………………………………………. 91 Painting by Rachel Cohen…………………………………………………………………….. 92 My Spirit by Rachel Cohen…………………………………………………………………... 93 Two poems by Nicole Moriarity……………………………………………………………… 94 The Trilogy of Eden by Niko Grollman……………………………………………………... 96 America’s Dystopia by Lily Mandl………………………………………………………….. 98 One Generation by Noor Alsairafi……………………………………………………………. 100 Bigfoot by Brett Matthews……………………………………………………………………. 101 Facing the Sea with Spring Blossoms by Hai Zi, translated by Yuchen Rain Ji……………. 102

Ceramic pot by Kate Hayward………………………………………………………………....104 Freedom by Christian Kummer………………………………………………………………..105

The editors thank the faculty of the English and Art Departments for their assistance with this publication. For back issues of the Stray Shot, see the website of The Gunnery, Campus Life, Student Publications.

Guttersnipe (after Claude Clark) by Hunter Sansbury Guttersnipe to misbehave and be an outkast As bad as a bee sting hurts The cigarette lights up the boy’s mouth As it breathes dow chemicals down the throat of an innocent Yet sinful young kid that is by definition Blue and white are his nice buttoned clothes as they abstract the fact that He is breaking the law and he is suspicious like a guy walking down an alley Wearing all black His pupils whine as they have no life to them and are equivalent to the color of his skin, While they sit in darkness and his soul is darkened by his mischievous ways. His hair curls due to the poor shape and configuration of his Non-defined cheeks and the poor nose job that was given to him By a fist His ears stay quiet as they have been abused by words And racial slurs that have defined this young man’s life This young man has been hurt as much a boy’s heart After a high school break up Growing up being known a guttersnipe is not okay, Nor are the people and words that made you become a guttersnipe

Foreign fall by Ariel Airan Wen

Silver moon shines on the sea water, Wind gently knocks its door, So is the wave. They guide the colors of fall to find their way. Please come, As the night is dark as ink and coldness’s mutter. Fall water absorb my fond thoughts, So far so deep, it seems it never ends. Farther there are unclear lights, Nearby are people’s voices on the land. Fall leaves, dripping down on autumn water, Endure this beauty, spread its fame. Some may moan, why need warmness? This season has a color like flame. Lotus blooms and crab have become delicious. My yearning makes the orange yellow gorgeous. I want To have a walk in the bamboo garden, dawdling in backyard woods, Holding the newborn sun in my hand and lighting the foggy window, When my soul travels back to my hometown with willow. Glowing glutton little fall Smashing the colors of the all, Dark yet so bright in the heart, Abyss like nature’s art. Walking autumn worth the wallow,

Grab and seize the light and swallow. Orange and red and brown and purple, Grow and gone, blown like a bubble. Via via, through the fall. Not even dim, my eyes are clear. Pious sky and peaceful tree it wears. It is the love I found after all.

Code Switching in Contemporary Poetry by Noemi Neubauerova

Many contemporary poets use both thematic and structural similarities that give an overall better sense of the meaning in different poems. One structural similarity that I found interesting in quite a few poems is how some words are written in different languages than the majority of the poem. Most of the time the words are italicized. There are different reasons why the poets chose to put a few words in another language. It leads the eyes of the reader right to the words or phrase and starts the thinking process of the reader, questioning “why did the poet add this specific word/phrase in another language”; or it emphasizes the words to give the reader a better understanding of the meaning in the poem; or it is there simply because it fits the structure. In the poem “Chino,” by Brandon Som, there are many words in Spanish including the title which means “Chinese.” Som emphasizes the word “eyes” in all three languages, English, Spanish, and Chinese. Even though there are other words Som decided to translate to Spanish, most of the translated words have something to do with eyes. The only word translated into Chinese means “eyes.” The Chinese translation of the word “eyes” gives the reader a pretty good starting point for the meaning in the poem. The speaker does not fit into her family because she is the only one who looks Asian and the rest of her family is English and Spanish. By using the change in language, Som creates a whole new level of understanding of separation. Another poet, Pat Mora, uses Spanish language in her poem, “Borders.” One of the translated words she uses is “luna” (line 5) which means “moon.” The word “moon” is also used three lines down in the poem. It automatically brings the readers eyes back to the word after they have read the whole poem and makes them question it. Why did the poet decide to add the word

“moon” in another language when none of the other words in this poem are translated? The question brings up the thinking process of the reader. In the poem “The Island Within,” by Richard Blanco, the word that is in Spanish and is italicized is the word “cafecito” (line 14) which is a Cuban word, and again brings the eyes of the reader right to it. It is a sign that the word is important and stands for a bigger idea in the poem. The speaker in this poem is in love with a woman from Cuba and she wants him to come to Cuba with her. Even though he does not want to go back there, his love for her is bigger so he considers her questions, “Would you move to Cuba? Would you die there?” (line 44). “Cafecito” is a representation of his past life in Cuba. By bringing him the coffee, she makes him think about his old life. Another example is the poem “Scars,” by Truong Tran, where Tran mentions a phrase in Vietnamese, “bố cùa con điên—your father is crazy” (line 10). It shows the relationship within the family between the mother, father, and the son. The father is the figure that is fearless and even a little crazy, whereas the mother is more thoughtful about situations. The son is too young to understand and he looks up to his father and wants to be just like him, including the scars his father carries. Even though the change in language might be a structural similarity, it is not always the case that it helps to explain the meaning of the poem. For example in Chapter O of Christian Bok’s poetry collection, Eunoia, a single poem does not have much meaning in itself unless we consider the poems in the chapter as a whole. The poem contains an italicized phrase at the end that says “mondo doloroso” (page 60) which means “world of sadness.” The tone of this phrase does not fit in the poem and does not explain the meaning of it either. The reason why Bok chose to put this phrase in there is simply because of the “o” vowels, and it fits at the end of the poem.

Many contemporary poets use this structural technique because it is something different. It can bring up questions about the purpose of the use of the specific word or phrase, and start a whole new discussion about how it fits into to the poem and how it conveys the meaning. Many poets that use this structural piece in their poetry are from different countries with different backgrounds, writing about their own experience. They use the change in language in order to make the reader understand his or her story better. Poems discussed in this essay: ● ● ● ● ●

Chino by Brendon Som Eunoia Chapter “O” (page 60) by Christian Bok Borders by Pat Mora The Island Within by Richard Blanco Scars by Truong Tran

sincerely, me (a sequel) by Clare Costello dear past me, first of all, good luck. if i’m being completely honest, you’re gonna need it. last time we were up here, you asked me a few questions. i’ll try to answer the ones i can. i’ll start with the one i know you were particularly worried about. yes. we got into college. i know you never actually built up the motivation to do homework. we’re still working on that. it’s a process. but hey, it all worked out. so don’t worry, that part of your future is taken care of. you were right. much to my disappointment, i am still pretty gay. even better, our parents do this really fun thing now, where they tell everyone they meet about it. i like to imagine that it goes a little something like, “nice to meet you! by the way, we have a gay daughter. she likes girls.” in fact, our whole family knows now! i know you were hoping that your official coming out to the fam would be something dramatic and cool but mom and dad stole our thunder. sorry about that. also, just a quick warning, you will crash your car twice in the span of a week.

you obviously won’t die, but dad will get really really mad so you’ll kind of wish you did. the car’s fine now. by some miracle, she’s still running. i have a feeling it’s only a matter of time before she finally gives up. we’ve put her through a lot. to quote your last letter to me, “keep your head high. the lows are only temporary. have hope, or something.” sincerely, me dear present me, i’ll keep this quick. some days, you take a big fat L. but a couple L’s doesn’t change the fact that it’s still dub season, and you’re kicking major butt right now. keep your head high. the lows are only temporary. have hope, or something. sincerely, me dear future me, i think i covered all of the questions i had for you the last time i was up here. so instead, i’ll just remind you of a few things. for starters, in a month and 3 days, we’ll be a whole year clean. that’s a crazy thing to think about. so don’t mess it up.

you’re doing fine. keep it that way. take it one day at a time. i really hope you finally learn how to stop apologizing for everything. i still haven’t. exist unapologetically. let yourself take up space. i know it’s a bit of a stretch but please just try? thanks. don’t forget, we’re naming our first dog ketchup. have fun in college. keep your-actually, you know? i don’t think i need to tell you the last part anymore. sincerely, me

Future by Ethan Cox The future is total uncertainty. No one is able to predict what will happen in the next few years, months days or minutes. It is impossible to know with complete certainty what is to come. But you know that. That is obvious. It isn’t some deep, existential idea birthed by the brain of a genius philosopher. Even though Einstein and Socrates may have agreed, one does not have to be smart or wise to know such a thing. So why even think about it. Knowing the future and predicting the future are two different things. To know something it has to have already been. A construct or an idea that has been researched and tested. You know that it is raining because water is falling from the sky and you are getting wet. You know that. But before this you looked up and saw the gloomy sky and thought “It’s going to rain.” Although you may have been right, you didn’t know anything about what the weather would be in the next few minutes. You checked the weather app on your phone to make sure. It reads 90% precipitation. You now believe you know for sure that it will rain. And you were right. It rains and you are satisfied with your knowledge. However you didn’t know. You only predicted. Because it is impossible to know the future. It can be easy to predict in many cases, but never will you truly know.

I can’t do it by Ethan Cox

I can’t do it Who said I can’t Because they are right I can’t do it. I can’t do it There is no way How is it possible I can’t do it. I can’t do it It frustrates me But I stop thinking I can’t do it. There is no turn. I simply can’t. No way around it. I simply can’t. There is no reason. Nor is there rhyme. I just can’t do it. I can’t and I won’t.

Mon Vie by Ethan Cox

I trudge along the bare wasteland of the woods. Sticks and rock cover the damp mud underneath. Patches of grass seem to glimmer between the death of the trees and air. The pellets of wet sky have just finished feeding the earth. Small animals peek their heads out from tiny burrows they nestled comfortably in during the storm. My stomach kicks every time I hear them, but knees are too weak to follow through. I’m cold and my fur is beginning to fray. I had only a few dead branches to take cover under during rainfall. I awoke with a stream of heat gracing my face. The grass underneath glistened and my sleep was ended.

Before I go, I would like to tell you about myself. I’m a fox. I enjoy cool, nutrient climates with, yes, the occasional shower. I usually stay in the trees, but sometimes I am forced into the open. If you see me consider yourself lucky. I like my fox hole, but sometimes I do not see it for many nights. My favorite things to do are: A) Run around with other foxes. B) Kill squirrels. C) Watch the stars. I’m pretty introverted, but when a fox or two come by my hole, I’ll usually come out to greet them.

Spring by Michael Esposito

Spring time is the best time. When the sun finally decides to come out after what seemed like a year of winter. You can tell it’s spring by all the grass greening, flowers blossoming, and the start of about five months of warmth. In addition, it also marks the start of baseball season, my favorite sport. I’ve been playing baseball practically my whole life. Since I was able to walk my dad put a bat in my hand and threw me baseball, and I’ve loved it ever since. My favorite is school ball, because I get to play with all my friends. My love grew for baseball on my own front lawn. From the ages 7-13 almost every day (especially in summer) kids from my blocks that I grew up with would come to my house to play wiffle ball. We would have team captains which were usually me and my older brother Christian. My dad would be the designated pitcher and would always give us advice to make us better ball players. I truly believe that playing wiffle ball with my friends every day helped me a lot to develop as a player. This was my favorite thing in the world as a kid. I would constantly play until sunset, and we couldn’t see the ball anymore. In addition, the little league days were the good days. Small fields, small baseball, and juiced bats made it easy to hit home runs. My last year of little league we won our district championship after we had lost in the championship the prior two years. I hit a walk off home run and it was the greatest feeling in the world. But then we got destroyed in states. The amazing part about it is that most of the those kids I grew up playing with are now some of my closest friends. The game has given so much to me: friendships, life lessons, opportunity, and the list keeps going. I am so grateful that my parents gave me the ability to play. I can’t imagine what I would be like today if I had never picked up a glove.

An Old Sole by Sabryna Coppola

A beaten-up sneaker sits behind the door, grass-stained A stale scent drifts off, filling the room Giving hints of where itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s been. Through puddles, through fields, over polished wooden floors Through the starry path she walks at night There are glitters of moondust left on her shoelaces, And a bit of the universe, black and blue and purple like spilled ink, Has seeped in so that the toes are dark like the deep lake Where she stands, looking at the water ripple and fan, Lapping at her feet, shocking her toes with the cold water. Mist still clings to her heels from the clouds she walks late at night when no one is awake. The shoes spend the day under the bed, growing cold and dusty But they carry her through her dreams, and end up stained And worn out in the morning.

In Amber by Sabryna Coppola

when she was eight she got pushed down, the gravel grinding into her palms, and the sick taste of shame rising high in her throat her book was torn and her eyes burned with tears she would swallow like sand and learn how to push her glasses back up her broken nose and get back up when he was thirteen he came home with black eye, like a purple and green flower blooming around his left cheekbone there was no one home so he put frozen peas on it and sat down in front of the afternoon talk shows, listening to people who had never known a hard hit he slept on a bench that night, kicked out by his wife and her sister, who clicked her tongue as he packed a bag and left he couldn’t feel his toes anymore, and no one answered his phone calls, and he drank out of the paper bag to bring the feeling back to his fingers she collapsed after the gala, drunk on mixers and fake compliments. she crumbled on the bed, one stiletto still dangling from varnished toes the tornado of coworkers, CEOs, and hors d’oeuvres spun her around faster until she couldn’t see faces and spat numbers about production value she learns how to hold her breath until she can’t help but get back up again, the air fights to get inside of her and she surrenders every time until getting up isn’t a force of resistance but a daily capitulation and another Advil knocked back with her second green smoothie of the day he gets pushed down over and over, broken boxer, black and blue and trodden sore by heavyweights and his lightweight wife who was “this close” to making him leave until she did. he had already stayed everywhere he could until they wouldn’t take him back. no one wants you after doing time, when it’s done, it’s all for nothing she slams the door shut to her red liqueur car and drives until the lights on the side of the road blur in her periphery she thinks of the baby she could have had, the empty blue nursery, covered in little paper butterflies, frozen in time like ancient amber-trapped wishes he can’t sleep so he sits up on the bench and listens to the self-important roar of the cars on the highway, caught up in their dizzying melodrama

her car stutters when she sees him and he looks up in distaste at her cherry car but her door unlocks, a 21st century invitation, and his eyebrows smooth and a small smile cracks as his his lip splits open again, blood matching the Ferrariâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s paint

The Substance Found Behind the Description of Nature. Essay by Phoebe Coppola In Thomas Hardy’s novel, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, Tess Durbeyfield, the strong female protagonist, is pushed to claim kinship, and ultimately faces injustice from two men who wrong her, provoking her emotional downfall, yet revealing her fortitude. Alec D’Urberville strips Tess of her innocence, leaving her vulnerable to the tantalizing and seemingly gentle Angel. Tess embarks on a journey through the land of Essex in which she struggles subconsciously, as well as with society. “The diversity and distinctiveness” (468) of the scenery illustrates the idiosyncrasy of Tess’s experiences, inherently representing her personal conflicts, predominantly connected to her criticism of “social conventions.” Hardy employs the four “distinct Wessex landscapes” as essential components to the novel, as they represent Tess’s growth from a victim of society to a martyr who dies to obtain the justice she mercilessly did not receive in her youth. Hardy incorporates eloquent diction and metaphors to describe Tess’s journey (468). From the “languorous” Vale of Blackmoor to the valleys of Frome, the altitude of Flintcomb-Ash, and “the fringes of the great barren heathland,” Hardy successfully utilizes the distinct landscapes as metaphors depicting the experiences of Tess’s journey, and foreshadows the events leading to her growth as a dynamic character, and her eventual role as a martyr in Tess of the D’Urbervilles (468). Tess’s purity and innocence are strikingly prevalent in the description of her town, Marlott, in the Vale of Blackmoor. Thomas Hardy uses vivid language, expressing that “the fields are never brown and the springs never dry,” suggesting pleasure and excitement (12). The landscape of Marlott undeniably captures the hope Tess carries, as “the sun blazes down upon fields so large,” metaphorically compared to the optimism she holds for her imminent journey (12). The significance of nature expressed by Hardy’s language innately portrays the heart of Romanticism. The affirmative diction used to describe the landscape of the Vale of Blackmoor represents Tess’s naive character as “at this time in her life she was a mere vessel of emotion untinctured by experience,” foreshadowing a fated suffering (14). Marlot is a place Tess can hold onto her innocence and feel comfort, yet when she leaves for Trantridge the “tinged azure” of the land is replaced with a “pale nebulousness” (72). The imagery of “the faint luminous fog” signifies her inability to perceive Alec D’Urberville’s true intentions. Tess’s pride and divergence from social conventions have generated her strength, yet she has lost her innocence and now questions mankind, which causes her profound sadness. 17

Tess finds work at Talbothays Dairy which generates hope. The Valley of the Frome sparks a change in her mood as the land is “intrinsically different” from that of the Vale of Blackmoor (102). Tess is able to open her eyes up to the beauty of the world, which she had nearly lost sight of. Hardy uses language to depict this journey to Talbothays as her second chance, as “the new air was clear, bracing, ethereal” (103). The change in tone creates a pathway for readers to grasp her emotions. The diction utilized to describe the nature of the Valley of the Frome depicts the hope instilled in Tess that happiness is possible in spite of her past. Hardy uses descriptive imagery to convey her growth, comparing the different Wessex landscapes: “The river itself, which nourished the grass and cows of these renowned dairies, flowed not like the streams in Blackmoor. ... The Froom waters were clear as the pure River of Life shown to the Evangelist, .. all day long (103). Hardy uses a metaphor to acknowledge her development from a naive girl to a woman by saying, “The sapling which had rooted down to a poisonous stratum on the spot of its sowing had been transplanted to a deeper soil” (129). The language employed to describe nature manifests a deep understanding of the circumstances Tess is facing on her journey as each illustration symbolizes a part of Tess’s development in her hero’s journey. The tone of Tess’s journey to Flintcomb-Ash is dark, as she comes across a scene of pheasants’ “rich plumage dabbled with blood” (278). This gruesome description and Tess’s decision to break their necks demonstrates her insensibility to nature and lack of connection with the world. Tess’s disposition has been tainted by what appears as a recurring disastrous relationship between herself and men. The landscape of Flintcomb-Ash is contrasted with the previous farm she worked on in Frome. Hardy emphasizes the lush beauty of the land of Talbothays and the barren, unpleasant land of Flintcomb-Ash, “sublime in its dreariness” (284). Tess is facing poverty in conjunction with depression, and Hardy’s harsh diction of the land represents these conflicts. Hardy states, “those that would have grown in the hedges being mercilessly plashed down with the quickset by the tenant-farmers,” describing the removal of trees in Flintcomb-Ash, which is relevant to the downfall of Tess’s character (281). Tess is struggling at this point in her journey as she was betrayed by a man she thought she could trust, Angel Clare. Hardy employs a metaphor to exemplify this conflict, illustrating “the engine which was to act as the primum mobile of this little world” (325). The machine Tess works with is a dominating presence that makes Tess feel inferior while also comparing the machine to her predetermined situation, which she has no control over. The machine portrays her fate, leaving

her vulnerable to her impending misfortune, capturing the sentiment of the Industrial Revolution. Hardy’s diction and imagery of nature, as well as the use of the machine as a symbol, allow readers to discern the emotional circumstances surrounding Tess and her journey. Tess’s final stage in her journey develops in Stonehenge, where she murders Alec and flees with Angel. She has experienced another colossal shift in her journey. Hardy implores a hopeful mood to express how Tess is accepting her fate and the events that have shaped her existence, as “though the sky was dense with cloud a diffused light from some fragment of a moon had hitherto helped them,” depicting the “light” prevailing from Tess as well as the consolation she is finally able to feel (393). Although the landscape of Stonehenge is mysterious, it maintains a sense of peace, as Tess is “sheltered from the wind,” and expresses how the sun provides a “comforting contrast to the rough and chill grass around” (393). Tess wishes for “nothing but the sky above my (her) face,” revealing that she is content with where her journey had led her, and no longer worries about her future, a positive conclusion to her journey (394). Tess has experienced and overcome immense pain, and dies to obtain the justice she did not receive in her youth, while also criticizing Victorian standards, making her both a heroine and martyr. The “black cloud was lifting bodily like the lid of a pot,” as Tess’s youth and adversity slip away and she is deemed a mature woman (394). Through the unjust challenges thrown at her, Tess perseveres and allows herself to find solace and courage to where she says, “I am ready” (396). Tess meets death with confidence and the descriptions of the landscape at Stonehenge leave hope not only for women who are victims of society, but also womankind as a whole. From the “languorous” Vale of Blackmoor to the valleys of Frome, the altitude of Flintcomb-Ash, and “the fringes of the great barren heathland,” Hardy successfully utilizes the distinct landscapes as metaphors depicting the experiences of Tess’s journey, and foreshadows the events leading to her growth as a dynamic character, and her eventual role as a martyr in Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Nature plays a pivotal role in the development on the novel, representing the growth of Tess as a character and a woman, while indicating future events. The distinct landscape is essential to the understanding of the novel, and gives Tess’s complexity more depth, revealing the inner workings of her mind and their impact, ultimately disclosing why Tess is both a heroine and martyr.

Coyote by Griff Smith

The wolf of the west They howl and shriek when one is lost To the native people, they are a God To me, they are magical

We have tried to eradicate them from Earth We failed We killed all the wolves and brought them back We succeeded Coyotes will never go away It contradicts the American way

Authorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s note: When someone mentions the elusive coyote, many will picture a varmint or scavenger who is one of the most vile and unclean being imaginable. We get emotional when we hear about coyotes killing and eating our pets in the news or even experience it firsthand. We start to forget how important the coyote is and how it changed the course of our nation. This one animal species got in the way of our American ideology from start of westward expansion of the U.S until today. As America was expanding westward to make room for more inhabitants and farmland across the deserts of what are now states like Nevada and Texas, we came across a major problem. Coyotes and wolves would kill and decimate farm animals by the hundreds without consideration for farmers or their families. This seemed like an easy fix as we would just kill all of them off without a biological understanding of the species and no morals against slaughtering animals unnecessarily. The wolves were erased without opposition, eradicated from the U.S until they were recently brought back into Yellowstone to deal with the overpopulation of deer species. Millions of coyotes were killed through the use of traps, guns and various poison bait stations placed across the west. It seemed as though the problem was getting better until we

realized what was actually happening. The coyote has ingrained in itself an evolutionary trait few animals on earth can possess. This trait is called fission fusion and it is what happens when we hear coyotes howl in the woods at night time. The howling is a role call for the pack and if someone doesn't howl back they are assumed to be dead or lost. Female coyotes recognize this and instead of having the usual 3-6 pups in a litter that spring, they will have 10-15. The more coyotes we kill the more there will be. The U.S government has spent hundreds of millions of dollars on committing coyote genocide the last 150 years. The funding has come to no avail and the coyote is still thriving to this day. Coyotes started off just in the west and have now expanded in every state in the U.S besides Hawaii, and I have a hunch they will sneak on board a cruise ship or airplane so they can inhabitat that too. In 2018 there are packs of coyotes in Manhattan, Chicago, Boston and Los Angeles, to name a few. The coyote has been a fascinating subject to dive into and the book Coyote America outlines the path of the true mascot through the U.S. The book, by Dan Flores, speaks to not only the seasoned outdoors man, but also to the city dweller who may have recently seen a coyote hitchhiking on a subway on the upper east side. Instead of living in fear of these majestic beings, we need to appreciate them as something that seems almost supernatural, but real in our lives. Next time you see or hear a coyote remember the vast importance it has on our country and why they are a quintessential piece of the American landscape.

The Word Brigadiers by Levi Mercier The brigadiers are coming, To say what they want to, Sacrilegious, suspicious, and vicious They annihilate the apexes of airheads, As we speak words without much meaning, They ignorantly and inevitably go incognito, The words I mean, hiding their true form They attack the avalanche of arduous apaches We must succumb in a serendipitous sacrifice Giving up the freedom of our words, The persistent, parabolic paradox In which we live Gives us the meaning of our words.

Ode to Lavender by Gwen Brown I have been to South Africa once. The land was painted with purple and green. Between cut mountains and grape armies were oceans of Flowers. Friends of family grew lavender. A tiny, grey pillow held the beauty of an entire field of purple. My eyes grew heavy, I could fall into a century of sleep.

They are fading. One sits in my backpack. The other in my pillow. My tickets to South Africa are always getting shifted around my Room.

Cool Summer Nights by Gwen Brown Longing for cool summer nights Where the frogs sang to an audience of stars My trampoline helped us reach new heights When we would’ve settled with Mars Fireflies adorned the air They danced to our 80’s pop I miss living without a care But summer always comes to a stop You’ll awaken to land of cold Mornings where you won’t get out of bed Longing for the sun’s light so gold But finding a world dead Soon you will wake up to humidity’s cling And you’ll rediscover the summer’s swing

Ode to Acne by Gwen Brown You are like a boyfriend I should have dumped Three years ago. You burn To the touch. My entire face Feels like it’s Melting. It’s not just you, But also your Friends. The ones that Try to make you better But are worse influences On me. Benzoyl let you Slip through. He let you Dip deep And plant Unwanted roots. Next it was Tretinoin. Two months of Chemical warfare Took place on my face. With no success. My acne Ate away at me. I could not Look Without hearing Words: Infectious, Bubbling, Pressure. It was ugly. Everyone called It out. I was ugly. Third, The pill. A tiny dosage Of estrogen.

It made me gain Weight. It made me lose sleep. It made me lash Out. It made me lose Friends. It made me Angry. And worse, It kept my Acne. I went back in crying. Blood was drawn. Accutane. A controversial drug. That will make My lips peel. My nose bleed. My eyes dry out. I might develop depression. I might hear voices. And this is all For some Bullshit acne.

Anisa by Noor Alsairafi

Mujtaba by Noor Alsairafi

Candy by Hannah Tulchinsky I was 3 years old at the time, yet I remember it so vividly. When my parents describe my childhood, they constantly say I was a calm little girl, who just stared at and watched my energetic and spirited twin brother. My parents told me I tried to be like him. If he tried to climb over from his crib to mine, I’d try and do the same. Thankfully, this one day, I decided not to follow my brother. It was another Saturday morning in the Tulchinsky household. My parents were taking care of a one-year-old baby (my younger sister), and my grandmother was looking after three-year-old twins (my brother and me). As I was playing in the living room I had noticed that my brother disappeared. I thought in my three-year-old mind, “Where did Max go?”. Of course I wanted to play with him, he was my best friend. So I ran around the house, to find him in my Grandma’s bedroom. He was eating these tiny little candy-looking solids from a plastic case labeled S, M, T, W, T, F, and S. I stood there and watched him eat these candies. He then asked me if I wanted some. Thankfully, I told him “no thank you.” I just stood there and watched him, as I did every other time we were together. A minute or so later my Grandma came in to see her three-year-old grandson eating her prescribed heart medication. Immediately my mother and my father came rushing in, taking Max and me out of my grandmother’s room. The two of us were rushed to the hospital. I remember telling my parents over and over again “I didn’t eat anything.” They didn’t believe me. Who would believe a 3 year-old girl who always follows what her brother does? I didn’t want to go to the doctor, my brother had just come out of the ER crying. My parents made me. They thought I had my grandmother’s heart medication in my system. Being in the hospital was a blur, I just remember being strapped down to a mat, being force-fed charcoal pudding. It was the worst experience of my life at the time. Of course this sounds more dramatic than it probably actually was. Luckily this situation did not result in any long-term medical effects for my brother. And the doctors proved me right, no trace of heart medication in my system. What’s so weird to me is how vividly I remember the situation that took place in my home as a 3 year-old. When I talk to my parents about it they tell me how terrified they were to find my brother and me like that. Maybe this is why I remember it so well.

A Short Fable by Hannah Tulchinsky Nicholaus was the most powerful god of Olympus. He was a lonely god with no family at all, so he decided he wanted to create a family for himself. In the city of Olympus, 3 beautiful young girls were born to husband Nicholaus and wife Alana. Alana was a mortal, and Nicholaus was immortal. Nicholaus wanted to have children with the most beautiful goddess of Olympus, but he realized that she was a mortal. She was a model, the most beautiful woman a man could ever meet. Nicholaus decided to marry this beautiful mortal, Alana. So together they had triplets, they were young beautiful girls. Their names were Clara, Lilac, and Mary. The three girls grew up together loving each other and being best friends. But one day they caught sight of the most handsome god named William. He was athletic, smart, and cute. They all fell in love with him, so he had to choose one of them. He loved apples and honey. So the girls asked their father for three apples, with one containing love potion in it. Which ever girl gave him the apple with the love potion would be the one he fell in love with. The girls went along with their plan and gave him the apples. So he took a bite out of each apple and immediately fell in love with Clara. Lilac and Mary became extremely jealous. The two became so jealous that they started to hate Clara together. So one night they decided to go behind her back, and together they killed her. William had now lost his love. He was heartbroken, but he needed to get past this and find a new lover. The two girls left then asked their father for two jars of honey, one with love potion in it, as they would repeat their process over again. William immediately fell in love with Lilac. So once again, as Lilac and William were dating, Mary became very jealous and killed Lilac. Mary was now the only one left, but before she got to William to make him fall in love with her, her father put a spell on her. The spell was for no handsome man to ever fall in love with her. He did this to teach her a lesson. To teach her that jealousy, and killing her own family will get you absolutely nowhere in life. She lived the rest of her life miserably. Mary learned that no matter how angry you are, you should never use violence to get your anger out, because in the end, the violence will come back to you, and you will live life in regret.

Berlin by Michael Kassis The building crumbled down as a Panzer shell hit its mark. The stones and bricks that had held the building up fell down and landed on the ground beneath it or on the passing Sherman tank. Soldiers ran out of the house and towards some new cover, either behind the tank or into a new building. Some men were helping wounded exit the rubble and get them back to a medic. Shouting could be heard on the inside of the building as an officer called for a medic to help wounded too injured to walk or be carried and to mark the dead. I watched from a building not too far ahead from the rubble as I waited for my squad to move up. Not five minutes ago, was I in that building that had been hit. I watched as one man, with blood running down the right side of his face; walk aimlessly into the street, looking for something. His uniform was tattered and ripped. It was mostly covered in dust from the rubble of the building. He wore no helmet on his head. His face was half covered in blood and half covered in dust. His eyes moved slowly back and forth, in search of something. He walked with a limp and he carried his rifle in his right hand, pointed down as if at any moment he would fall and use it to hold him up. He stopped in the open and lifted his left hand up to where the blood was. He touched it and pulled his hand away. I heard someone shout for him to get out of the road and when the soldier didn’t respond, another yell for someone to get him to cover. The soldier just stared in the direction of the yelling but did not comprehend it. I saw someone trying to move behind him to get his attention. He was ready to tackle the man if need be and pull him back. But that wasn’t to be the case. The to be savior wasn’t too far from the wounded man when the sound of a sniper rifle cracked in the air. The wounded soldiers head shot back. Blood spurted everywhere and the man fell on to his back. His rifle still held in the grip of his hand. The man, who was trying to help him, pulled his body into the destroyed building. I would later find out his eyes still stared aimlessly, as if he were looking for something. I turned my attention to the road ahead. The Germans had set up a tough defense of the street we were on. They had been firing at us since we entered the road. They had machine gun nests; located in various buildings, sandbag walls, and sewers. Snipers hide like rats on the roofs or in buildings waiting to spring out and claim a life or two. The enemy had Panzers hidden in destroyed buildings or in the street to go up against our Sherman tanks. At this very moment, we were pinned down by two Panzer tanks; one located in the middle of the street and another hidden somewhere, waiting. One of our Shermans had been destroyed by a Panzer shell and was creating trouble for our progress. It lay in the middle of the street and couldn’t be moved properly by just being pushed by other tanks. The reason for this was because inside was still the tank’s crew, injured badly but alive. We were having men try to help them out so we could move the tank easily without worrying about injuring the men inside. This proved fruitless because every man we sent out to help, would be hit by sniper fire.

My squad and I were waiting for orders from our platoon leader on what to do next. We had been held up in a building for the last ten minutes waiting for an order. Our casualties were rising and moral seemed to grow weaker. I crouched by the doorway which had a good view of the tank. I thought about the men inside who were injured and what it was like to be in there, in a half blown up and burning tank. I thought it must be hot in there and they must be dying from that heat and thirst. I did not think they would make it. It was a sad thought but not wrong. A tank crew’s life was very short and very minimal. That’s why I had joined the infantry when the draft came. As I stared at the tank, thinking, one of my squad mates came up to me. I turned my attention to him when he asked “Sir, do you know when we will get an order?” I shook my head no. He grimaced and sat against the wall next to me. My mates name was Billy. He was from Western Pennsylvania. He had worked in the coal mines prior to the war and had also been drafted. Before he had been shipped out, he had married his high school sweetheart. I still remember when he and I were in boot camp. He looked so happy and young and ready to help his country. Now he looked like he had aged a century with the beard he had grown out. He looked tired, sad and angry at times but still held onto the hope of him returning home. His dark brown eyes showed his tiredness now but he knew that one wrong move could kill him or his mates. He and I had been in the same squad since we had fought in North Africa with the Third Army. Now we were all the way in Berlin. I placed my hand on his shoulder and he looked at me. Between the two of us, I was the older by two years. He trusted me with most of his problems and would ask me at times for help. “Billy, don’t worry, Walton will get us through this predicament. He always has got us through things like this.” I said to him. He nodded yes but I could see he was still doubtful. He hadn’t slept in forty--eight hours and I knew it was wearing on him. I hit his helmet and said “Don’t get too tired, we don’t want anything bad happening to you, ok?” I asked “Yes, Vin.” He replied. Just then another soldier came up to us. I turned my attention to him. It was Private Xavier. “Sergeant, Walton says for you to take four men and see if you can try and get those men out of that tank.” I looked at him and then looked at Billy. Billy didn’t show any emotion but I knew he knew that this was crazy. But orders were orders and not following them meant a court martial. “Ok.” I said. “Walton also says he will have the machine gunners fire on sniper positions and MG positions. He’s also trying to get Sherman support for you.” I nodded and Xavier ran off to help out where he could. I turned to Billy. “Go get Luis and Ron. We have a job to do.” I said.

“Yes sir.” He replied. Luis was from the state of New Mexico. His family had immigrated over during the First World War when the Mexican bandits under Pancho Villa raided villages and towns on the border. He had worked on a ranch most of his life and, to get better pay, joined the Army. He had been with Billy and me since the beginning. He would use the money to support his little brother in going to school. He was our squad’s main support man and held onto the heavy--‐duty weapons. Ron on the other hand, was fairly new to the squad. He had joined us in the Invasion of Sicily but had been a great fit with us. He came from Northern Maine and was a rough outdoorsmen. When the platoon needed food, he would always provide by hunting in the forest of the country we were in. He had joined with his brother, who by chance had been put in the Invasion of Normandy. After the first few days of fighting in Normandy, he had gotten a letter from command saying his brother had been killed in action on the beach. It had hit him hard and took a toll on him for a while. He had not fully recovered but was better than he had been. When the three returned to me, I had figured out a way to get to the tank. All three crowded around me to listen to my plan. I told them that Luis would lay down covering fire on the nearest MG or sniper position. Then Billy, Ron and I would run and try and get the crew out of the tank. They nodded and got into their positions. Luis lay down in the spot I had been crouched by and set up his MG. He was a strong man and could carry his gun and its ammo pack on his own. The battle raged around us as we got ready for the rescue mission. Grenades and shells exploded everywhere, destroying buildings and killing soldiers on both sides. Bullets whizzed by like an angry bee heading in for the sting. The sounds from wounded men could be heard everywhere. When I gave the order us three ran towards the tank. Bullets whizzed over our heads and we could hear Luis gun ripping like a zipper. We got behind the tank and took cover. Now was the hard part. Ron and I would lay on both sides of the tank while Billy would enter the tank and help who ever was alive. When I gave the order Billy jumped onto the tank and entered it. It was still very hot from the fire. Ron and I lay on the tank, firing at the German positions. I saw a German running towards cover in a building. I aimed my M1 Carbine and fired. The bullet entered his chest and spurted blood onto the building behind him. He fell to the ground dead. I felt a bullet nearly hit my head and looked up into a window to see a sniper. I aimed and fired and saw his body fall back. Just then, Billy emerged with the first survivor. Ron helped the man out of the tank and into cover behind it. “There’s only one more left.” Billy said and disappeared again. A few moments later and he was helping the last one exit. I pulled the man out and put him behind cover. The crewman’s arm was burnt badly but otherwise he was fine. I helped him to try and cross the street by letting him lean on me. We were halfway to cover when I felt something hit my leg. I fell to the ground

and so did the other soldier. It hurt badly, like a broken bone. I looked at my leg and saw that a bullet had hit me. The wounded soldier had gotten up and was now trying to help me back to cover. I told him to go find cover. Bullets whizzed by and I could hear people yelling orders to one another in the building. I turned and saw Billy running towards us. He crouched next to me and began to wrap my leg. I grimaced and gnashed my teeth when he tightened a cloth around it. He was reaching for my arms to help me up. He was about to lift me up when I felt blood splatter all over my face and him fall back. A sniper bullet had hit him in the head. I yelled in pain and in anger. I looked at his dead body and tried to move. Ron ran over to me and pulled me behind cover. The wounded soldier began pulling his body back to us. When we were behind cover, a medic tended to my leg. I felt the pain but paid no attention to it. I just stared at Billyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s face. It was white from loss of blood but also stained by the red of his blood. His eyes were closed and his beard stained. Although we were pushing up, in my book the battle was a loss. The medic squeezed my leg and I fell unconscious from the pain.

Winter’s Day by Will Hambley

A chilling wind soars through the frigid air, and with it comes the sound of rustling leaves. A soft blanket of snow covers the trees, protecting nature from the world’s despair. The water flows beneath the frozen pair of hanging cliffs in the on-blowing breeze. Reticent footsteps can be heard in threes, humans and nature maintain their warfare. How could a tree grown durable and high fall short to human’s overbearing pride of abolishing earth’s light into gray. Amidst echoing pain from nature’s cry, a child in tears is heard from far and wide. There goes God’s gift of happy winter’s day.

Edgy Teen by Cole Varney What do I write about? Where should I go to college? How do I do this problem? What was in the reading? Tell me I don’t want to listen to that song I don’t want to do that worksheet I don’t want to go to practice Or class Or church Let me decide I’ll do that homework I’ll ace that test I’ll force that smile I’ll thank the elders I’ll abide Not lack of gratitude Causing my angst The simple cause is Freedom died Did it really? Probably not But do we feel that? Why do what my neighbor does? Why be a clone? Why not be my own thing Before it’s all done

A Letter I Wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t Let You Read by Cole Varney Do you remember the simple times Sitting in the park Using ice cream as an excuse not to speak Both nervous Walking while the world slept Never tiring Learning to converse Never boring Long nights that vanish too quickly Thin fingers leaving my back striped Dark eyes leaving me breathless Waking up to start again Now I struggle to think These memories paint my brain Despite all the good times I cannot shed the pain I hope one day we both recover Did not expect these feelings You made me feel like no one other Which doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t help the healing

Light by Bonnie Bao There is nothing under the sea, But a dark and wretched abyss, I shall not see The fragile and faint light, Burning and lingering. I shall foresee The gorgeous gloom, Trembling and screaming Be cautious.

Poem by Bonnie Bao I remember the first day I saw you walking out of the dark nightâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s rain Your face was in the shadows but your voice was mesmerizing clear like a thorn bird singing in the dead of night My heart flowed with your song When the autumn rain fell hard from the skies You flew over me with wings cloaked in stars But the bird, he had to leave some day For the sky he just canâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t deny I know that the bird, he will look back As he soared out of sight Many winters and summers will pass him by But our paths will cross again as we fly

Somaliland Soccer by Yamna Abdi Jama

The Somaliland soccer (which is known as football everywhere except in America) league is a very unique championship. Somaliland does not have a national soccer team, as the country is not recognized. Therefore it cannot participate in sports competitions around Africa. On the other hand, Somalia, which is recognized, is too busy dealing with internal issues. Yet there is plenty of soccer being played. Somaliland has gobols or, as they are commonly known, regions. Awdal, Saahil, Maroodi-Jeeh, Togdheer, Sanaag, and Sool are the six regions of Somaliland. They compete against each other by representing the main cities around the region. For example, Hargeisa is the capital city of Somaliland and it is also located in Maroodi-Jeex. However twenty kilometers away there is the city of Gabiley which is still in the Maroodi-Jeex region and is also represented in the national championship.

In the middle of the city of Hargeisa is a soccer stadium that holds the championship. The stadium is just called Stadium. For a few weeks the entire city lives by the rhythm of the football competition. The people wake up to football. They eat, breathe, and sleep football. The entire news association is focused on the championship. The best reporters are sent to get the opinion of the people about who they want to win and what player they look up to. Last year the Gabiley team won and the father of one of my best friends, who happened to be the ex- minister of sports, held a big party at his house where all the team members where praised and represented. Younger people could only enter if they had an invitation. It was really a big deal.

The competition happens around Ramadan. People are fasting, but they still attend every game for the duration of the championship; this shows true dedication. The game is also broadcast on television by HCTV, which stands for Horn Cable Television. I have personally never attended a game because I find it easier to just turn on my television and watch it. Also the month of Ramadan is the hottest in the year, therefore it is hard to just sit in the sun and watch an entire game. I know people who do it, but I would not be able to do so. I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t even know how I am going to fast here in the United States. I imagine that it is going to be really hard because the days here in the summer are longer and the nights are shorter, whereas back home the time does not really change all year round. The sun sets at 6pm and rises at 5am. Plus I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have the entire country fasting with me here, or the call to prayer to determine the time of the day. I still have to attend school meals and formal lunches because it is part of school life. So many things make me dread Ramadan this year. I know it is going to be hard, but I will do my best to keep up with the fast and repent for all of my misdeeds. Ramadan is one of the pillars of Islam and if I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t do it or at least try, I am not a true muslim.

Back to Football!

Football back home is a big deal. In fact, it is such a big deal that it is the only sport practiced by youngsters. Girls on the other hand play basketball. Growing up in Somaliland before the civil war my mom was an athlete. She was thin, tall, and energetic. She was a confident young woman and her favorite sport was basketball. At that age, and most importantly during that time, it was a huge problem for women to practice any kind of sport, because it was not acceptable; but my mom did it anyway. Sure it was not football, but basketball is something

she had access to. She would tell my grandmother that she was going to the library or running errands, but she would secretly go play basketball. Today kids lie to their parents about having boyfriends or doing drugs, etc.

Football is a very competitive and universal sport that is entertaining to play and watch, and it is my country's favorite. It brings people from all around the world together, and makes them part of one big thing. I like to say that football is a family sport, and that it holds the entire world together instead of dividing it. That is the magic of this sport. Vive le Football!

Ebrahim by Noor Alsairafi

Hasan by Noor Alsairafi

The Recurring Dream by Keely McGann I lie in bed thinking of sleep and then it comes to me, just like a John Green quote, slowly and then all at once. My body seemingly dead and my breath flat. Images in my head flash back and forth. I remember it now, but when I wake, it all slips my mind like an escaping prisoner into the night. Never again will I find or see the prisoner again. I don’t know how it starts, but I know it has when the smell of burning rubber fills up my car. The fast car’s travel around the track makes me feel a sense of excitement. The screeching sounds of the tires as they whip around the corner. All of sudden I’m driving. I see a human figure standing half way down the track waving a piece of black and white checkered fabric. I put my car into gear and the engine grows louder. There is no sight of cars, neither in front nor in back. Thrill takes over and the last turn just ahead. The finish line so close yet so far, everything becomes steady and quiet. I soon realize, I am not in control. The car takes a sudden turn and crashes into the wall of the race track. I’m thrown upward into the air looking towards a blue sunny sky. As gravity pulls me back down to earth faster than ever, I prepare for impact. Thinking I hit the pavement, my eyes open. I have not moved. I am welcomed by my bed once again and a million questions as to why this dream keeps recurring.

Sonnet (with a coda) by Keely McGann

She sits in my sink, And lies at my feet Almost as dark as a mink. Sometimes she is sweet Sometime she is mean And hisses at random things Yet she is so lean Sheâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s coming, as her bell rings. Her tail is a curve, She has green eyes She likes to observe As she sits on my thighs. She is a cat Who has nine lives. Jumps like an acrobat. Every day she thrives.

The Last Meal by Erica Minjia Zhang My memories about home are of the home-made food prepared by my grandma. She is so good at cooking all kinds of Chinese food that it can always satisfy my mouth and stomach. When I was at elementary school, the happiest moment was to wait until the lunch break to run back to my house to have a meal with my family. However, since I have started to study abroad in the United States, it is even difficult for me to have Chinese food here. Although you may order Chinese delivery to school, it does not have the same taste as my home-made Chinese food. Therefore, if you ask me what I miss the most about home, I always say home-made food. It is not only a plate of food, but it contains my memories and love for grandma and home. “I made your favorite dumplings today, come out and try them,” my grandma shouted to me. It was my last day at home before departing for school last summer. The Chinese proverb indicates that you eat dumplings when you are going to leave and noodles when you come back, which represent the wish for safe travels. My grandma held two plates of beef and veggie dumplings in her shaky hands, and put them on the dining table. I took a few pictures of the food because they looked good in my social media posts. They looked just like all the other dumplings--the white wheat dough with beef pieces inside that you could almost see because the dough was really thin, which would make the taste better. There were fifteen dumplings sitting on a large porcelain plate with pink flowers on it. I sat on the chair on the side of the dining table and was ready to start my meal. At this time, I saw the thin steam that came from the plate of the dumplings because the dumplings had just come from the pot and were still too hot to eat. I used chopsticks to split a dumpling half to let it cool down faster. Then, I carefully poked into the half and sent it into my mouth. The beef pieces today were a little bit salty, but I liked it. The mixture of flavorless wheat dough and salty beef pieces, made the taste of dumplings right on point. It was not too salty or light. Therefore, I finished the whole plate of dumplings so fast and moved on to another plate. My grandma came to join me at the meal since she had just finished cooking the last plate. She looked at me while I was eating a whole dumpling rather than starting with a half of it this time. “How are the dumplings today? Do you like them?”, my grandma asked me. However, I could not speak because I was still working on chewing a whole dumpling. So I nodded and smiled as I gave the positive answer to her question. She smiled because she was happy that I liked the food, hence all of her work had paid off. 48

In this mid-summer time, the sunshine occupied the whole dining room with the smell of beef dumplings. Even now, I can remember the taste of the dumplings that day. It was not because that day was special to me at the time, but I can remember the taste of every single meal my grandma made for me, especially the beef dumplings, which were my top number one favorites. The next time I went back home was December last year, but I could never have the same taste of dumplings again. She had had a diagnosis of breast cancer, so she would not be able to move her whole body freely during the chemotherapy. The dumplings she made last summer were the last meal she made for me. My memories of the last meal and the smell and taste of grandma-made dumplings are still clear and will remain in my mind forever. The salty beef pieces and the flavorful wheat dough are my labels of home.

Ceramic glazed pot by Kate Hayward

Essay by Jenna Sittler Wilson’s Artistic Inspiration Inspired by Romare Bearden’s painting, author August Wilson takes Bearden’s twodimensional canvas and creates a multidimensional narrative that elaborates on African American culture and hardship after the Great Depression. Berniece, the protagonist, and her brother, Boy Willie, fight over who should be in possession of their family heirloom, a piano decorated with haunting carvings that represent their family's lineage. Through symbolism, The Piano Lesson addresses grief, death, and the horrors of racism in America, while also confronting the difficulties of moving on from the past and escaping history. The play is Wilson’s own canvas in which he communicates his views on life, and with his words, he paints the story of a maternal character consumed with sadness over the loss of her husband, and bound to an object whose sentimental value destroys her ability to move on. Although Bearden and Wilson use different mediums, Wilson utilizes the fundamentals of Bearden’s painting in an attempt to make his script “the equal of his canvases,” and builds his story on the perspective, colors, and composition of the figures in the painting, The Piano Lesson, to portray African American life and heritage in his play. Bearden’s collage-style art is portrayed through the chaotic nature of the characters in The Piano Lesson. With a whirlwind of backstories and personalities, Wilson has the audience piece together his play much like Bearden's art is composed. The skewed perspective of the piece gives a surrealistic distortion to the painting without it falling under the surrealism movement, and the vibrant block-like colors create a lively tone. Wilson plays on these aspects, contrasting the dream-like eeriness of haunting spirits, with the sickening reality of slavery, death, and the prejudice against race. However, despite the show’s serious narrative, the liveliness and depth of the characters breathe energy into the dialogue, much like the bright colors do to the art. Like other pieces of Romare Bearden’s work, his use of social realistic paintings intertwine with the play’s commentary on African American lives as a result of the Great Depression. We see characters struggle to find a motive for their action other than money, discuss the topic of racial discrimination, and contemplate revenge as a result of hate. Boy Willie wants to sell the piano to obtain farmland lost due to the financial problems of the 1920s. Intertwined with Berniece and Boy Willie’s ancestry, this property is Willie’s motive to sell a piece of family history in order to 51

try to gain back his family’s pride which was lost while slavery existed in the United States, stating that “This time I get to keep all the cotton. Hire some men to work it for me” (I. 1. 11). Both Boy Willie and his sister’s motives for wanting the piano involve history and pride in some way; however, Willie’s approach is about progress, while Berniece tends to be fixated on the past. During the first scene, Doaker, their uncle, ties the symbolism of the railroad to the social narrative pertaining to progress as he criticizes people who “think the train’s supposed to go where they going rather than where it’s going,” later stating that “if the train stays on the track… it’s going to get where it’s going. It might not be where you’re going. If it ain’t, then all you got to do is sit and wait cause the train’s coming back to get you” (I. 1. 18-19). This conveys humanity’s progress, relating it to Berniece, who dwells on history rather than the future, thinking “the train’s supposed to go where they going”; however, if she waits, the train will eventually come back to fetch her. In The Piano Lesson, Bearden paints a youthful woman playing on the piano while an older woman stands behind her. In the last scene of the play, Berniece ends with a performance that ultimately resolves the argument over the ownership of the instrument, while also pacifying the spirit of her restless husband. In the painting, the older woman is hunched over in a way that looks like she is looming over the girl, reminiscent of the unsettled souls who cling on to the piano in the play. The carvings on the piano are the record of the past and it is apparent that they play an important role as Boy Willie states, “The only thing that make the piano worth something is them carvings Papa Willie Boy put on there” (I. 2. 51). Berniece seems to be attached to the heirloom as a result of her father’s death as well as her mother’s devotion to it, saying that when her “daddy died seem like all her life went into that piano” (II. 2. 70). When comparing the show to the painting, the towering figure gives the impression of being Berniece’s mother who is the central tie between the piano and the protagonist. Bearden’s figures are positioned closely together, and it is in this intimacy that the standing women’s hand touches the girl’s shoulder, guiding her and instructing her how to play; however, in the context of the show, it is as if the hand is holding Berniece down, and forcing her to play. Wilson also parallels the painting with Berniece’s daughter, Maretha, who is also learning to play piano, symbolizing handing over family history to the younger generation. In this case, Maretha is the pianist and Berniece is the looming figure who is handing down her knowledge, portraying the cycle of passing down the weight of suffering in African American life.

Although The Piano Lesson ends in a similar situation in which it started, Wilson raises important topics through the symbolism he uses as a catalyst for the discussion of social inequality. The play's tone is sparked by Bearden's use of bright, simplistic, block-like colors; however, the dialogue which seems straightforward, is riddled with an underscore of emotion by a world disgruntled by the Great Depression. The piano becomes a physical representation of how ancestral history is able to bring together, as well as tear apart, a family. The movement of social realism advances humanity’s views on the nature of everyday affairs, and Wilson takes this voyeuristic insight into the lives of an African American family from his “artistic mentor,” Bearnen. The author plays off of Bearden’s work by harnessing aspects of the painting and uses it like a snapshot which embodies the play as a whole.

Again by Bella Byrne I’ve been trying for years to write you a great song But I just can’t seem to get the chords right I guess tonight won’t be the night Cuz I’ve just been holding back tears Trying to figure out who you wanted me to be Dammit The only chords coming to mind are C, G, D there must be more than C, G, D To explain to you what you mean to me Day one Let’s take it from the top Yes that a theatre phrase I wouldn’t have known that if I hadn’t been in such a daze You took me in Spread your wings as you flew You made everyone feel better when they were blue Still The only chords coming to mind are C, G, D

God please let there be more than

C, G, D To explain all you’ve done for me Month one We’re working on a play with arsenic and lace Your wig shines in the moonlight You killed with such grace For real though You made me fall in love with the arts From here on we weren’t two separate hearts Still can’t fit any chords that aren’t C, G, D There has got to be more than C, G, D To explain how in the world you fell for me It’s been almost two years now since we first met I see in you every day The world you will change today Now I’ve figured out some chords that aren’t C, G, D Not sure what they’re called but they’re not C, G, D You’re everything to me [insert MONA by Noor]

Mona by Noor Alsairafi

Scream by Bella Byrne I did not come here to have the hairs on my neck stand given the brand that I wear on my arm it's written in the sand I did not come here to hear the critics in the audience sing I'll a make a diamond ring for all the wrongs I have committed I did not come here to stand in the street I came here to eat not to be passed by oncomers contemplating my gender because it's different than what they were taught by their mothers To stand on the edge of a cliff labeled tolerance Is to be consumed by your own thoughts, hold a press conference This is what I want to wear, I mean This is who I want to love, my dream This is who I am, now scream. To jump into the social norms of a world where I will never be accepted Or to stay in a universe in which you know you are neglected A father who wants to accept his child for whoever they are or want to be when all they want to be is free Is the same father that leads them to the side of the clothing store, what a bore But which side corresponds with their birth certificate? This is what I want to wear, I mean This is who I want to love, my dream This is who I am, now scream. I lead a battle in my name which can't be won without a gun Better change the law but the law has a flaw a flaw that I saw with my eyes and the man on the news sings of a unarmed black man shot by the swings. It's not long until the voices in our heads break out not long before they shout This is what I want to wear, I mean This is who I want to love, my dream This is who I am, now scream.

If You Know by Bella Byrne One night alone, she should have known Wild sounds, cold hard ground Tarp above, maybe it was love If you know, you know. Twinkling lights and bug bites Sleeping hearts with broken parts His eyes shine with every rhyme If you know, you know. Bare skin accompanying a slight grin Chilled air but he doesn’t care Powerless mind and one soul, blind If you know, you know. A numb pain lays in front of his gain As a body in the sky slowly dies One night alone, if only she’d known If you know, you know. And if you know, if it’s so If your hands inside just want to hide If you feel the burn, it is your turn If you know, you know. It’s our time together, no matter the weather To rise and shine, it’s finally morning time Nothing is due to you, this much I know is true So if you know, you know.

She looks at you all, She doesnt feel small Open eyes, tired lies Timid smiles, lacking style If you know, you know. Enough is enough We’re calling your bluff We’re standing up now We are taking a bow Because the thing about rape Is you cannot escape There is no hiding in shadows No time for excuses Maybe you didn’t know Maybe you’re a little slow Maybe you need to grow a pair Either way, let’s clear the air We will not be put down It’s up to us to make those thoughts drown You are not alone. Now you know.

Author’s note: Women have been oppressed for hundreds of years in America. Most oppressions we have overcome, but some still stand despite daily fight. One of the most common oppressions happens to be one of the worst. This is what this poem is about: it is about having to walk around worried that someone is going to do something really awful to you. My mother taught me to carry my keys between my fingers while walking alone at night back to my car after work, just in case some entitled drunk man decides that I am no longer a person but a goal. A mission. This is something that women have had to face since the beginning of time, but now a woman is sexually harassed every 98 seconds in America. This is not something that can be fixed at a legislative level. We already made rape illegal and yes of course that helps, but we need things such as the “Me Too’ movement to scare the crap out of men. In order to do this we have to come together. We need to stop using excuses like “oh, he was bullied,” or “no one ever sat with him at lunch.” WE HAVE BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN KEEPING THE WHITE MAN COMPANY. During the Civil War among the highest groups of people who sacrificed their lives for the cause are Jewish people. Jewish people went down to the South to fight for Civil Rights because they saw injustice and it was all too familiar. There are not a lot of people in the melting pot of America that have not been oppressed in some way. We need to come together because if we do, you better believe that the rapist will be scared for possibly the first time in American history.

The Significance of the Landscapes in Tess of the D’Urbervilles by Yuanshu (Sylvia) Wang Tess of the D’Urbervilles is a Romantic novel by Thomas Hardy, an English author of the Victorian Era. Like many other Romantic writers, Hardy took a subjective approach to Tess’s surroundings, which serves as a significant factor in conveying Tess’s emotional state. In the book, Tess travels throughout the landscapes of Wessex, England. With horses and carriages, Tess never travels anywhere too far away from home, which is located in the Vale of Blackmoor. Other than the vale, the three other main regions of the book are valleys of Frome, upland of Flintcomb-Ash, and the fringes of a barren heathland. Each place possesses a distinct landscape, symbolizing the different stages of Tess’s journey, during which she seeks survival but died as a martyr for chasing true love and challenging the society’s conventional view on women. Vale of Blackmoor is characterized by its sluggishness and heaviness, which signifies Tess’s burden to support her family. Tess’s home locates in Marlott, a village in the northeastern side of Vale of Blackmoor. Countless summits of the hills surround the vale, while deep in the vale, it is filled with “narrow, tortuous, and miry ways” (12). The hills draw a bound around the vale, almost limiting its space, suffocating the habitants within its territory. Though locally from the vale, Tess’s brightness forms a distinct contrast to the vale’s dullness such that she is almost an outcast of her home town. She is so “fresh” that the strangers “wonder if they would ever see her again” when she passes by (16). Such a fine creature like Tess, however, is used by her parents as a tool to climb the social ladder. They ask Tess to claim kin with the D’Urbervilles, and more importantly, potentially to marry Alec D’Urberville. Tess disdains the conventional idea that girls should marry a man of position or wealth; instead, Tess wants to spend her life with whomever she loves. Though Tess has bluntly expressed that she “[does not] quite like Mr D’Urberville” (47), her mother still is unable to “repress her consciousness of the nuptial Vision” (48). Tess’s mother is ecstatic about the fact that her family name would be enhanced and her financial situation improved if her daughter were married to Alec. Sadly, the actual happiness of Tess does not seem to cross her mind. “Being mentally older than her mother,” Tess unwillingly joins the D’Urbervilles (49). Tess starts taking care of her family from that time. Unlike Blackmoor, the evergreen land of Frome represents the happiest time in Tess’s life, when she gains both friendship and love. The river of Frome is flourishing, as it nourishes grass and cows. To Tess, the air here is “clear, bracing, ethereal” (103). The land breeds the lily,

a flower that connotes purity, like Tess. She feels welcomed by Frome, as it shows her all the positivity and possibilities in life. It is only in Frome that Tess enjoys the burden-free life she deserves. She becomes close friends with several milkmaids, and falls in love with Angel, a gentleman who respects her regardless of her family background. Tess and Angel can not help seeing each other constantly as they meet daily when the dawn breaks “as if they were Adam and Eve” (130). Hardy alludes to the Bible by comparing them to Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. This is the moment when Tess finally takes charge of her life by prioritizing her feelings instead of the feelings of her parents or anyone else. The austere environment of Flintcomb-Ash intensifies Tess’s sorrow for losing Angel. She sees herself as a sinner who does not deserve Angel’s love. Though Angel leaves Tess with sufficient money, her pride prevents her from asking for it from his parents. As a result, Tess “slaves in the morning frosts and in afternoon rains” on a farm field (287). The land “[is] in a desolate drab… featuring its outcrop of siliceous veins in the chalk formation” (285). As a product of the Industrial Revolution, the engine Tess uses on the field “[acts] as the primum mobile” of the world, which indicates its need to be tended to constantly (325). Tess’s labor on this melancholy land adds to her physical pain in addition to the ache in her heart due to missing Angel. Facing in the direction where “she [imagines] South America to lie,” Tess “[blows] out a passionate kiss upon the snowy wind” (289). Working in the field under a violent snowstorm, Tess reveals her unimaginable physical strength. Hardy writes in a somber tone that he empathizes with Tess’s loneliness for being far away from her husband while withstanding an overwhelming amount of labor. Tess continues her journey on the fringes of the great barren heathland, attempting to gather information about Angel by visiting her parents-in-law. Her love for Angel sustains her pilgrimage for miles to the Vicar’s house. On the edge of the basin where Emminster and its Vicarage lay, Tess sees the landscape grow faint, and she is “in danger of losing her way” (297). Her confidence gradually decreases as she approaches the Vicar’s residence. Eventually, Tess is too ashamed to enter the door, for she is a farm girl. Tess feels hurt on her way back, such that she is even disappointed in her good looks. “Nobody loves it; nobody sees it” (302). After all, she does not belong to the land where Angel’s family resides. Hardy, writing from Tess’s perspective, conveys his disdain for the classism which English society advocates. It is superficial, and yet, Tess has too little power to challenge it yet.

Tess’s journey for love is filled with hardships. In Blackmoor, Tess carries the financial burden of her family and is forced to accept a man toward whom she feels disgust. In Frome, Tess finally follows her heart and pursues the happiness she deserves. Even though she temporarily loses Angel’s love, Tess remains positive in the grueling environment of FlintcombAsh, because her love for him is strong enough to maintain life. Tess’s faith in Angel supports her as she travels to the barren heathland where her parents-in-law reside, but the classism prevents her from achieving her goal during this visit. Eventually, Tess sacrifices her life in exchange for Angel’s love, ending her love chase in Stonehenge. Her experience of working in the fields proves to society that women could be as powerful as men. Her death serves as a warning to society that such pastoral tragedies will not stop if classism keeps functioning as a weapon against women of the lower class.

Dictionary of Adventures in the Life of Huy Pham by Huy Pham A Abbreviation: One of the most useful words that I have learned which gave me the right to boast in my English classes when I was in 3rd grade. I attempted to use this word in literally every situation possible in my English classes, even when it was irrelevant to the context. The abuse of this word arose as a result of my classmate’s appraisal of my “WIDE” range of vocabulary at the time. However, also in my 3rd grade English career, I hardly ever shortened any word in my writing. Academic: A vital part of my life and one of my main focuses thus far. Academics have helped me in ways beyond the acquirement of knowledge. I have made friends from the classroom, and learned how to be flexible and collaborate with other people of different cultures. Acceptance: A process of struggle and doubt as I question my future, since my location of academic pursuit changes drastically. Airport: My favorite tourist attraction when visiting a country. Sometimes, I am even more interested in the airports of countries that I travel to than the main attractions of the countries themselves. My general impression of a country, although it might sound strange, often starts with the airport. Thus far, I am most impressed with Tokyo-Narita, the airport in which I have had the pleasure of staying for 12 hours every time I travel back and forth from home to the United States. Alcohol: The substance of pleasure, as many claim, that I have not at all tried up to this point in my life. This is mainly due to the first-hand experience of witnessing my maternal grandfather suffer from consuming it. This deceptive and demonic liquid has put one of my grandfathers in partial analysis and given the other diabetic complications.

Amiable: Even with my seemingly frowning eyebrows, I am surprisingly friendly. I am always content to make friends with new individuals in my vicinity, yet, my appearance might suggest otherwise, as many of my friends have said. Application: The nerve-wracking process of applying to several boarding schools in the United States from half an earth away, waiting, and then having to make tough decisions about which school to attend, choosing between Cheshire, Williston, The Gunnery, Canterbury, etc. The process repeats itself in my Senior Year with colleges. Aquatic: I learned how to swim at the age of four. Even though I am by no means as good of a swimmer as the Olympian Michael Phelps, I am Michael Phelps when there is a family pool gathering in my parents’ eyes. Also, I am 70% water. Artist: I am by no means a good painter or drawer but the arts can be present in various forms. I am an artist in math with my ability to maneuver between polar curves and an artist for my ability to forge words like gold and embrace my creativity in literature as well as other aspects in life. Asia: The continent that literally has the best food that I have ever eaten and, out of all the continents in the world that I have traveled to, the only continent that actually know how to cook delicious and edible vegetables. B Badminton: The second sport that I have picked up after swimming. In primary school, girls would always fall for and admire those who are skilled in this particular sport. We often play with a shuttlecock, or as I call it, “feather ball”. I was one of the better players in my grade; hence, I landed a relationship with my alleged “girlfriend” in first grade, with whom I held hands, and went down the slide.

Baking: My mother provided me with an opportunity to take a cooking course when I was in 5th grade. The instructor was a pastry chef and hence, the majority of the course was focused on baking. Ever since, I have developed a hidden talent for baking cheesecakes. Whenever the opportunity arises, I attempt to bake what my parents would consider one of the culinary masterpieces that they have ever had. Baking not only relieves me of my worries in life but also allows me time to forge a stronger bond with my family within the kitchen and in our lives outside of it. Billiards: The sport that I deemed impossible to play when I was little since the stick was twice my size and I did not possess any balance at all when I struck the balls. However, when I traveled abroad for school, this was the primary mean by which I socialized with other students during my sophomore year and during the summer program at Cornell that I attended in 2017. Billiards has inspired me to continue to socialize and make friends through other sports. Brett: Brett Matthews is the tallest person that I have ever met face-to-face, coming in at roughly 2 meters. He possesses the height which my mom would love me to have. However, every time that I encounter Brett, I wonder to myself, what are the advantages and disadvantages of being so tall? Does he actually enjoy being that tall?

C Calculator: Most people these days might claim that the device that they are in contact with the most is their phone. However, for me, the device that I have had the most contact with is the calculator. I was in contact with my first calculator in second grade and it was the most magical

device that I had ever seen as it allowed me to finish math problems with multiplications before all of my classmates. This device also motivated me to train my brain to become a virtual calculator in its absence as my primary school teachers would often prohibit the use of the calculator for classwork sessions and tests. Consequently, the training that my brain has gone through influenced my enthusiasm for math due to my dominance in math classes in lessons when complicated arithmetic problems arose and the calculatorâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s utilization was prohibited. Calcium: The substance that my mom told me would make me grow tall, strong, smart, and have superpowers. As a result, I was forced to drink one glass of milk per day for 13 years straight. Thankfully, I have grown up to be quite tall, decently strong and rather smart, yet have not shown any sign of any sort of superpowers. Hopefully, I will be able to finally find out what kind of superhero I can really be. Cat: I used to own one mother cat and six kittens when I was six. However, in one careless moment, my grandmother opened their crib to feed them and forgot to close it. They escaped as soon as the opportunity arose, and disappeared into the streets. I never saw them again and that was the first time that I was heart-broken. Concentrate: Both of my parents would always make me go to a tranquil space in the house to study so that I would not get distracted by either my toys or the television shows that they were watching. In addition, at the beginning of 4th grade, in an attempt to encourage my studies in English, every time they came to check on my progress, they would tell me to â&#x20AC;&#x153;concentrate on your studyingâ&#x20AC;? along with a reason with their heavy Vietnamese accent that was barely comprehensible to me; they also used their inadequate pronunciation as an excuse to blame me for not being dedicated enough to my studies of a second language. However, after a chemistry

and a cookery course later on, every time I hear the word “concentrate,” I often think of the amount of substance per a fixed volume, or baking ingredients such as fruit concentrate. Curious: I am always eager to discover new areas of academic as well as life. I especially enjoy travelling to explore different cultures, hence, I have travelled to twelve different countries around the world, and counting.

D Date: I like to use this word to refer to the specific time that I am in, like the majority of the population because the other meaning of it is something that I can only imagine because I am always too shy to approach and invite a female companion to a social outing. Dictionary: The books that define the meaning of words that are most commonly used by the peoples of the world, and those that translate it from one language to another. However, since joining Creative Writing, I have learned to accept that each and every word has a unique meaning and carries with it stories about an individual, of which an excellent example would be this “The Dictionary of Adventures in the Life of Huy Pham” that is currently being written. Dragon: I was born in the year of the dragon, according to the Zodiac in Eastern culture. People in countries that celebrate Lunar New Year believe that anyone born in the year of the Dragon will be an all-powerful individual who has no fear. Once again, this belief is only a well-crafted lie as the only thing that I have had thus far is a decent appearance; other than that, I am terrified of insects and cannot manage to maintain a conversation with a female companion for the duration of five minutes without mumbling at least twice.

E Eel: Eel is considered a delicacy in Asia and it is often very expensive, yet it does not suit the appetite of many Americans, as I have observed. Eel omelet is one my favorite dishes made by my mother, and it sparked my interest in trying exotic food such as stir-fried bees, grasshoppers, etc. as well as participating in adventurous activities. Economy: One of the most common terms for international students who study abroad, like myself. It indicates the location on the airplane where I am seated, which is often filled with crying babies, people who sit in the window seat next to me who demand to go to the bathroom every seven minutes, as well as individuals who recline their chair backwards for the entirety of the 16-hour flight even when they are sitting upright. Europe: This continent has the most beautiful places that I have ever set foot on, from majestic castles to grand waterfalls that combine to create a tremendous, harmonious scene. I was also influenced to learn how to maximize my efficiency as I passed through countries such as Switzerland and Austria where many store owners only work 4-6 hours per day and still maintain a luxurious lifestyle. The lesson to be learned from this continent for myself is â&#x20AC;&#x153;Work smart, not hard!â&#x20AC;?

F Family: Consists mainly of my parents, grandparents, uncles, cousins and little brother, but anyone who has been able to establish a solid sense of reliability and loyalty can be an expansion to this group of the loveliest people in the world. Food: My major reason to travel around the world. I do not simply travel to seek the unique taste of each country and region but also to learn about the culture of that particular country or region. Also, I believe that discussing and revealing a foodâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s history while consuming it is one the most peaceful and bonding activities that one may indulge himself or herself in. Friend: An individual you can play sports with, with whom you can discuss different issues that are happening in your daily lives, who sits with you at the same table in the dining hall; anyone who gives you a smile that cheers you up instead of pissing you off can also fit into this category. Also, anyone who attempts to express their special feelings for an individual that they are intimate with and gets rejected also fits into this category along with those who cannot properly talk to girls, like myself.

G Gigantic: With a height of 1m85, I am considered â&#x20AC;&#x153;lengthyâ&#x20AC;? in my hometown as the average height for males only ranges from 1m65 to 1m70. I used to be able to get tickets to R-rated movies at the age of 14, thanks to my superior height, while my cousin had to pick an alternate. Girl: A mythical and magical individual who emits wavelengths containing dopamine towards the individual of the opposite sex who is attempting to hold a concise and casual conversation,

causing him to be excited yet overly nervous, resulting in his mumbling of words at least twice in a short period of time. Gunnery: My final decision after a good while of questioning my future. This institution is rather intriguing on both ends of the discipline and academic spectrum, yet, the overall experience is rather pleasant. It is a utopian society where strangers greet you with a smile that most of the time warms your heart and occasionally triggers your inner sinister self. As long as you abide by the rules, you will have a rather relaxing experience. Also, this institution is the place where I continue to question my future as I move on to a drastically different academic and residential setting.

H Hanoi: The city which I call my hometown. The city that has lasted for more than a millennium, has witnessed various conflicts as well as abundant tranquility. The city is characterized by a mix of antiquity with its modernization, from narrow houses that share a ceramic roof in the Old Quarter to the skyscrapers that are gradually being built over the years. While you sit and grab a delicious cup of Vietnamese coffee and enjoy the breezy afternoon in a lakeside cafĂŠ and witness the elegant blossoming milkwood-pine flowers, there will always be people racing against time on their motorcycles to get to work. Everything in this city combines to exude a sense of tranquil romance, mixed with the bustling of its 9 million residents, to create a picture of contrasting yet balanced hues.

I Indescribable: One of my favorite words to use when I am too lazy to explain something to the person that I am holding a conversation with and want to switch to another subject. Also, this is the feeling that I get when attempting to hold a conversation with girls. International: I consider myself international not because my school in the United States places me in this category due to my origin but because I have travelled to many countries outside of my own to explore this world, explored many intriguing customs and I am currently attempting to become fluent in more than just two languages.

K Kid: Although I turned 18 this past January and am now officially an adult, my spiritual side is still dominated by being a kid, and I am perfectly content with that. I want to spiritually be a kid, to be able to continue having fun on a daily basis, and to explore the wonders that lie ahead in my life. Kind: I am generally open for a conversation with anyone about anything as long as they are not assaulting and insulting me without an apparent reason. I always try my best to help another person when they are in need of it. I have inherited this characteristic from my maternal grandma who used to be a respected high school teacher whose students have won many national awards in natural sciences.

L Language: I can fluently hold a conversation with anyone who speaks English or Vietnamese. I am currently studying Spanish and Mandarin with the goal that I will be fluent in both by my senior year in college. My main inspiration to study languages is a quotation from Nelson Mandela which states â&#x20AC;&#x153;If you speak to a man in a universal language, you are speaking to his mind but if you are speaking to a man in his own language, you are speaking to his heart.â&#x20AC;? Lego: My parents would buy me a set of Lego bricks after I earned a certain number of Aâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s in my classes at school and I would spend weeks building, disassembling and rebuilding the same model of the Batmobile. Even now, I still possess a box of Lego in my room for stress relief when the occasion arises.

M Magic: I always attempted to use magic in middle school to impress girls but it never worked out. I only know a few card tricks and have forgotten many over the years but whenever I perform the ones that I remember, my audience has always been amazed. Mandarin: One of the two languages that I am currently attempting to become fluent in. My inspiration for this language came from the number of times that I have been mistakenly perceived to be from China, greeted in Mandarin, failed to play along and was forced to divert the conversation to an awkward one in English. Math: Motivated by my process of training my brain to work as a calculator and dominating math classes in primary school, I became a math enthusiast. For me, math is not a subject to be learned but rather a collection of puzzle games with varying difficulty to be solved.

P Pham: Pham is my family name. However, when I first arrived in the United States in 2015, many of my dorm mates referred to me by the nickname “The Fam” and it was my first nickname ever. When I moved to The Gunnery, almost no one knew about this nickname; however, my close friends who know about the nickname still call me by it from time to time. Also, did I mention that my time here at The Gunnery has been Phamtastic!!! Piano: I used to play the piano for 5 years before completely stopping after traveling abroad for my studies. The piano sparked my interest in music and whenever I am having an awful day, I will listen to symphonies, waltzes, etc. to cheer myself up before proceeding to listen to other types of music. Plane: Another major interest of mine other than math. I love to learn about airline regulations and planes’ interior structures as it gives me a satisfying experience when I pick the perfect seat in economy class for my 16-hour flight because I knew the seat arrangement of the aircraft that I am flying in prior to departure. My current favorite aircraft is the A380. Also, I am fairly intrigued by three dimensional planes in math. Prankster: I am a fan of practical jokes and quite often, I perform them on my friends. My motto is “It’s only a joke until someone gets hurt”. Consequently, I only perform physically harmless pranks that would still generate hilarious reactions such as those involving frightening ghosts or fuzzy insects, etc.

S Soccer (football): My favorite sport to watch and play. It has always been one of my most useful conversation starters with people from a different nation, as the majority of the world watches soccer or football. Spanish: I decided to take Spanish prior to my trip to Spain in 2014 to visit the Camp Nou, home to my favorite football club, FC Barcelona. It is mainly because I hoped to see my favorite players there and hoped to be able to communicate in Spanish. However, it never happened and I am not remotely fluent in Spanish. However, I will still attempt to master the language in a future not too far away.

T Tennis: I started playing tennis when I was 15 and it is not until I joined The Gunnery Varsity Tennis team that I have obtained some valuable lessons from it. Although we were one of the worst teams in the league and did not manage to win too often, the team maintained a positive attitude and had excessive fun throughout the season. Thus, tennis has taught me to always find positivity in every circumstance. Traveling: Another one of my passions in life; I love journeying around the world to explore various cultures and to make friends internationally. I have been to China, Austria, Australia, France, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Germany, Italy, Spain, Switzerland and the US. Next up, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll see you in Japan and England!

U USA: The country that I came to in 2015 to pursue freedom of thought as well as a collaborative academic experience. I was exposed to various streams of thought and have obtained versatility in academic pursuits. After a while in this rather strange nation, I have gained many friends and have matured significantly as a student and a citizen. However, challenges lie ahead as I head to the west of the nation to continue my academic pursuit with the hope that I will continue developing into a more complete citizen.

V Vietnam: You have all three meals in a day for the price of $4-$5, you can see motorbikes invading the streets of the capital as each individual rushes to work, you can also witness the tranquil, simple, wild, and undeveloped countryside. A third world nation, a nation of stark contrasts, a nation of war damage but also a nation of hospitality, a nation of compassion and a nation of development. I was born and raised in the heroic and historic land of Vietnam. Anything that you can associate with Vietnam is reflected in me. Thus, I am always proud to say â&#x20AC;&#x153;I am a Vietnamese.â&#x20AC;?

The Girl with the Pearl Earring by Andrew Byrne-King I sit upon the rock wall which stretches along the Rhine, Waiting to get a glimpse of beauty. The daughter of a wealthy aristocrat, a shield, For she wears exotic clothing from the orient, And she walks with a grace, a understanding, a knowledge. Yet, it’s like she knows the life story of every person she comes across. She wears that earring, the polished pearl of the tumbling sea. It hangs off the wire wrapping around its body, holding it in place, And letting the world gawk at the fruit of a mollusk’s life work, and the girl. It’s my time, the moment my whole life has led up to. The moment I meet my destiny, the girl with the pearl earring. I want her to know my story, and I her own. I jump off the rock wall, the barrier I had put up since my first encounter with her. For she was too good for a lonely merchant’s son. I mustered the last of my courage and ran, Waiting for her to understand my life better than my own. “You’ve finally showed,” flowed out of her rose petal lips, “Follow me, I’ve been waiting for this day.” She ran ahead of me, ushering me towards my destiny Looking back at me, the pearl catching the afternoon sun, Blinding me from my own inhibitions. A smile spreads across her pale, porcelain, effortless skin And a smile comes across mine The walk down the Rhine is a beautiful and mesmerizing experience, Yet nothing touched my heart more than that smile. The smile of the girl with the pearl earring.

Looking out the window by Emma Ziyuan Wang

Looking out the window was my favorite pastime in a car ride. When I was little, my family used to travel a lot. My parents took turns driving the car, and I had the privilege to lie down on the back seat, observing clouds and gradually falling asleep. One evening we were driving on the highway in Northern China, and the starry night sky drew me out of my dreams. I looked out the car window to see a sky of midnight velvet. Stars sprinkled on the matte charcoal black, and the sky painted darker, one stroke at a time. I wondered how science could explain such mesmerizing magnificence, as the flickering gems seemed to come from a pure fantasy. The view was too unreal to be real, and sometimes I thought it might be part of my dream. I kept looking for the same sky after that night, yet it never returned to me. Years later, smog occupies news coverage. Hundreds of documentaries have filmed China with a grey and unhealthy sky, taking away my lingering hope. Nonetheless, I refuse to call an end to my quest. Up above the thickening layer of smog must be an untouched paradise awaiting its recovery after decades of industrialization.

City and Country by Emma Ziyuan Wang

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Three, two, one, CLASS ENDS!â&#x20AC;? That was my deskmate. He had matched his watch perfectly to the school bell for the grand daily countdown. Elementary school kids flooded out, each embarking on a different journey to home. I maneuvered through the crowd as the ringing bell faded, and headed toward the main street. With my eyes fixed on the ground, I stretched out my legs to step on the center of every tile or twisted my feet to fit the shape of the tiles. The roaring sound of cars from the busy street caught up my little tile game. I hopped onto the overbridge and enjoyed my little moment of sky walking when the busy corner of Wuhan grew smaller underneath. The other side of the street brought more challenges. I zigzagged through the narrower path while trying not to bump into food carts or street vendors. Once in a while, I had to turn down flyers or to resist the tempting aroma from the bakery. After a left turn, I could see my house at the end of the lane. However, before I could finish my after-school journey, I had to give my lunch leftover to the street cat who always waited for me by a clothing shop. Along with the reminiscence of my little trip comes a wave of nostalgia. Those school days have passed, and the commuting distance grows longer. While I like the tranquility of a rural campus, sometimes I miss being in the middle of a boisterous street, and the adventure continues in my memory.

Essay by Sophie McAndrew Honeysuckle In poetry, a poet carefully constructs their work by incorporating literary devices, rhythm, and specific word choice in order to get their intended meaning across. Honeysuckle, written by Karla K. Morton, is an example of this, as the author includes a vivid word choice, a unique rhythm, and several breaks and pauses to convey the meaning of the poem. The stanzas are roughly the same length, in terms of the number of lines, with the exception of the last stanza which is only one line and an incomplete sentence. The poem begins with a line which consists of eleven syllables and a line consisting of five syllables follows. This rhythmic pattern continues for the entirety of the poem with the exception of one line which is composed of twelve syllables instead of eleven. Along with the rhythmic pattern, the poet includes numerous punctuation marks signaling pauses or stops, such as dashes, commas, and periods as well as abrupt line breaks. In each stanza of Honeysuckle, the poet adds a line break mid-sentence. This tactic allows one idea to stretch to the next stanza and connect with the new ideas presented. This also creates an emphasis on each last thought since it causes the reader to wonder why it is oddly broken up. The unique syllable pattern along with the plentiful punctuation marks and unforeseen line breaks gives the poem a specific sound and flow. These factors signal the reader to read the poem slowly and thoughtfully throughout all fifteen lines. After reading through Honeysuckle and analyzing each stanza, it is evident that the tone of the poem drastically changes as it is read. When only reading the title Honeysuckle a preconceived idea could be that tone of the poem is happy and uplifting since the honeysuckle plant symbolizes happiness and sweet life. Morton begins the poem with pleasant imagery and a picture of beautiful newly bloomed plants against a fence. The poem takes place during May

which occurs in the Spring which is the season of life and new beginnings. The poet includes the use of bright colors such as white, yellow, green, and gold and each of these colors signify positive traits such as goodness, happiness, harmony, and compassion. She also incorporates words like “glorious” and “perfect” which gives the poem an upbeat and cheerful tone. The joyful tone is quickly lost once the second stanza begins. The tone of the piece switches to a more unfortunate and gloomy sound as the author utilizes words with negative connotations such as “hated”, “lack”, and “disorder” and these negative words like “cancer”, “fire”, and “ugly” continue throughout the rest of the poem. The author purposefully included the sudden change in tone to highlight the good to bad and symbolize how quickly aspects of life can transform. One line that stands out is “in May, when cancer stepped onto my front porch and rang the doorbell” this is the only line that has personification which underlines its importance. During May, a month of new beginnings and life, cancer shows up unannounced once again and the girl has to re-adjust her lifestyle to a one to fight and hopefully beat cancer. Although the poem is fifteen short lines, Morton packs a lot of meaning into each and every sentence. The poet thoughtfully chose each word to construct a precise sound and important meaning. Honeysuckle is a poem about a girl who has had an ongoing battle with cancer. Along for the wild ride is the girl’s father who gives her strength and does all in his power to help get rid of this disease, but as she beats cancer it comes right back again, stronger each time. Her father uses violent ways to get rid of the violent disease such as “setting fire” or “bulldozing it”, but by the last stanza, the cancer comes back stronger than ever and spreads even more rapidly than before, like fire. Although the honeysuckle plant and cancer are complete opposites, since honeysuckle signifies happiness and cancer brings sadness and pain, the stubbornness of the honeysuckle plant symbolizes cancer. Once the honeysuckle bloomed, lots

of effort would have to be given by pinching and pulling to get the end result: one perfect drop of honey. This relates to the girl in the poem who would fight her battle with cancer by giving all her effort and energy to get the end result: no cancer. But just as the honeysuckle grew back every spring, so did the cancer. Two importants themes that are apparent within the poem are perseverance and strength. The girl continues to fight her battle with the disease and she and her father have to gain strength and persevere through the hardships. Although the honeysuckle plant is strong, stubborn, and tough to take down, the girl has to persevere and be even stronger than the honeysuckle. Within Honeysuckle, Karla K. Mortonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s word choice creates imagery in the readerâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mind and the particular structure signals the audience to read the poem a certain way, and with this the poet conveys a certain meaning with the specific word choice structure she incorporates within the piece.

Poetry Zeitgeist Essay by Sophie McAndrew

In poetry, a poet is solely limited to words in order to demonstrate a distinct meaning. The writer consciously constructs sentences with depths of meaning by using precise word choice with specific sounds and structurally arranging the words on the page to amplify the significance. Within contemporary poetry, many writers use similar tools in order to ensure the engagement of their audience. Through the use of literary devices, sensory language, and imagery, a common thematic thread of new beginnings and melancholic endings are highlighted throughout the pieces. In order to convey a deeper meaning in their poems, many writers use literary devices such as personification, similes, contrast, and onomatopoeia. This tactic is commonly used in contemporary poetry and author Robert Wrigley displays this in his poem Mowing. The poem seems to begin in the springtime, the season of new life, where one mows the lawn and avoids destroying the dandelions, trees, and shrubs. Suddenly, they are surprised with a bee sting “A bee lands heavily, all blunder and revenge, and the sting is a quick embrace and release like the dared kid’s run and touch of a blind man.” Here, the theme of death is experienced since bees die after they sting. Wrigley uses a simile, and later on throughout his piece he uses onomatopoeia by incorporating the sound “whump.” Although the poem begins with the season of life, it ends with the winter which is the season of death. In addition to the use of similes and onomatopoeia, author Elfriede Jelinek uses personification in his poem Spring. The poem begins with the phrase “april breath” which highlights the theme of life, as the month of April is when many plants to begin to grow and breathing is essential in order to live. Lastly, Karla K. Morton’s piece Honeysuckle describes the relationship between a girl battling cancer, and her father who is

doing all in his power to help her fight it. The story takes place during the springtime in the month of May, a time where many plants are beginning to bloom; and the focus of the poem is on the honeysuckle plant which symbolizes happiness and sweetlife. In addition to happiness and sweetlife, Morton uses the honeysuckle plant to symbolize cancer, which is a contrast between the two. Later on in the piece, the author continues to incorporate literary devices as she uses personification when she writes “when cancer stepped onto my front porch and rang the doorbell.” Incorporating sensory language into poems heightens its level of imagery since the ideas of sight, sound, smell, taste, and touch are transferred to the reader through vivid images. Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney is an example of this as he includes sensory language throughout the entirety of his piece. As Heaney integrates the senses into his work, the reader becomes more engaged to the point where they feel as though they are a part of the poem. Blackberry-Picking begins with the heavy rain and sun which aids the first blackberry harvest. Within this poem the fresh berries signify life and the author goes on to describe the first ripe blackberry to be “sweet like thickened wine.” As the poem progresses, the author includes several more sensory descriptions like how the “briars scratched,” how the fruit juice “was stinking,” and how the fermented fruit “smelt of rot.” The poem then ends on a less hopeful note than how it began with the rotting and death of the blackberries that were harvested. Through the use of vivid language and detailed descriptions, mental images are generated in the reader’s mind which motivates an emotional connection with the reader and the poem. Author Marge Piercy is an eloquent writer who paints a picture with her words in her piece More Than Enough. The idea of life is celebrated throughout this poem as “the first lily of June opens its red mouth,” the “multiflora rose climbs trees cascading white or pink blossoms”, “the

blackberries are blooming in the thickets”, and “the turtle is laying her eggs in roadside sand.” Throughout this poem, the writer’s use of color and descriptive words create a beautiful image in the reader’s mind. More Than Enough clearly focuses on the idea of new beginnings with the exception of how “the green will never again be so green” describing how the lush plants are in their prime and they will not be as abundant in the future. Contemporary poets use similar tools within their work in order to engage readers and convey their intended meaning. Since poets are restricted to the use of words, they must display meaningful thoughts by using vivid word choice with certain sounds, structurally arranging words in a particular order, and and using literary devices and strong imagery in order to entertain the audience.

I Love you, I Love You Not. Essay by Talia Zabit

Throughout The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald writes with a background of beauty and tenderness most commonly related to characterization. Fitzgerald's use of gentle language becomes a comfort when he describes characters who have unfavorable traits. Instead of defining Myrtle Wilson as an adulterer, Daisy Buchanan as a self-absorbed housewife, and Jay Gatsby as a criminal, Fitzgerald compels us to look past these unethical character faults by using compassionate language to describe them. Fitzgerald encourages his audience to examine the characters beyond their greatest flaws, and they curiously become more likable. One recurring character flaw is being unfaithful in marriage. Myrtle Wilson boldly calls the Buchanan's home and Jordan tells Nick that “she might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time” (15). In calling, Myrtle becomes an adulterer who is brazenly trespassing into someone else's marriage. However, when we met Myrtle “there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering” (25). Our image of Myrtle as a disreputable adulterer is shattered. Even minor descriptions of her “brilliant smile” (31) radiating throughout her apartment party as she “flounced over to the dog, kissed it with ecstasy, and swept into the kitchen” (32) paint a more delicate picture of Myrtle. Even in Myrtle’s death Fitzgerald paints a softer picture because she ‘‘had choked a little in giving up the tremendous vitality she had stored so long” (137). Rather than hating her for trespassing into the Buchanan’s marriage, we let our guard down and begin to care for Myrtle, especially after she is run over by Daisy. Daisy and Tom Buchanan are rich snobs who have “smashed up things and creatures and [who have] retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness...and let other people clean

up the mess they had made” (179). Daisy has little concern for anyone but herself; this lack of concern culminates after Myrtle is killed by a car Daisy was driving. However, before we label Daisy a murderer, Fitzgerald inserts the tender descriptions once again making it difficult for us to hate Daisy for the fatal mess she created. Although she is responsible for taking a life, “a stirring warmth flowed from [Daisy]” (14). “Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget” (9). “[Gatsby] found her excitingly desirable” (148) even after Daisy had killed Myrtle while driving the car. “The pink glow from Daisy’s room on the second floor” (144) remained significant for Gatsby. Although she caused Myrtle’s death and indirectly took Gatsby’s life after he took the blame for her, “Daisy [was] gleaming like silver, safe and proud above the hot struggles of the poor” (150). Even though she is a self-centered individual responsible for two deaths, Fitzgerald’s descriptions of Daisy refine her into a delicate charming woman and she becomes a more likeable character.

Jay Gatsby’s most considerable flaw involves him building his fortune illegally after “he and Mr. Wolfsheim bought up a lot of side-street drug-stores here in Chicago and sold grain alcohol over the counter” (133). Our narrator says Gatsby “represented everything for which he had an unaffected scorn” (2), yet there was “something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life” (2). Although Gatsby was “just [some] big bootlegger” (107), “he literally glowed...well-being radiated from him” (89). Being involved in such activity labels Gatsby a criminal yet his smile “was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it” (48). Fitzgerald’s description of Gatsby reassures us so that rather than focus on his criminal label, instead we admire his overall perfection.

F. Scott Fitzgerald plays on his audience’s emotions in The Great Gatsby when introducing characters; he produces soft and beautiful descriptions while simultaneously revealing their notable flaws. In revealing these flaws, he drives us to think more about the characters he is developing. While we want to hate them for coming between a marriage, selfishly destroying lives, and making money illegally, his descriptions make them more likeable characters. Along with Nick, we too “[are] within and without simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life” (35) that Fitzgerald produces within the characters. Our conflicted feelings surrounding the characters require us to be passionate about and intrigued by Fitzgerald’s background of beauty and tenderness (742).

Oxagons by Tony Zhang

Artistâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s statement by Tony Zhang In this piece, I tried intentionally to be unintentional. I let go of my thoughts. My mind was only thinking about one thing: meteors. Meteors themselves are very unattached. They come and go, viewing the world from above. I tried to imitate that idea -- to make this piece nothing like anything from this world; to make it abstract; to make it an outsider. Meteors slash by so fast, like tiny streams of electricity squeezing their way through just a little slice of sky. I wanted to give this piece that urgency. Imagine this was something that squeezed its way from another dimension into this world, appearing out of nowhere in the air, and I just took a snapshot of it... I had only a couple dozen cut pieces of foam boards in the same hexagons and pentagons. I did not think of the laws of physics, works of architecture, or even the principles of design. The process was confusing yet rewarding. This piece introduced hierarchy, change of density, and the foundation of a story. You might think that it has an end, that it has a side. But I even find it hard to display because it has no base or ceiling. It does not have any side. It is not a thing that lies on the ground. Its flexibility increases and decreases as the environment around it changes. To protect that flexibility, I chose infinity as the background, and hanging in midair, without a frame, as the media of display.

I Am Prometheus by Rachel Cohen I am sitting on the ocean floor Twisting the granules of sand between my fingers Feeling the warm water wash over me My hair is swept up to float around my head Like a halo But I am no angel And this is no sweet poetic dream This is salty hell Washing over me without pause Filling my mouth My nose My ears My lungs With a burning liquid That I cannot expel And just when I think Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m going to choke And just when I think I will be welcomed into the sweet relinquish of deathâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s embrace It stops. And my lungs drain just enough for me to keep breathing Just enough No more. No less. I gasp and claw at my throat, begging to be released. But I am not and I never have been so lucky My hair is gently swept in the waves The warm water kisses my face The sand dotes along my thighs And I am sitting on the ocean floor Waiting for the cycle to start all over again

Painting by Rachel Cohen

My Spirit by Rachel Cohen My spirit is ancient She is delicate, yet strong Burdened by the weight of a thousand years of heartbreak, yet her step is light as a feather She has deep crowâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s eyes and a compassionate smile, yet her eyes know no scarcity of tears Her body is dense and graceful; it has been nurtured She is sapphic and boasts the violets springing from her arms with deep pride She is in love with life; how she has not yet been corrupted into being a cynic after all these years, I do not know. Her hands cradle my pumping heart Ba bum Ba bum Ba bum As my plasmatic, galactic blood drips down her hands She quite literally holds my lifeblood. Sometimes she squeezes too hard I have to remind her that my heart is not a stress ball She laughs I tell her I understand the kind of stress she is under I tell her that I wish I could be more like her And she places the beating vessel back into my chest gently And grabs my hands firmly She tells me that I am like her I am her Just because she is clouded by my trauma and judgement and pain Does not mean that she is not there at all We simply need to brush off the repression together And she guides my hand to place on my heart And I am full. I am full of hope and joy Of purity and love. And I see that she is right. So we start uncovering her together.

Two poems by Nicole Moriarity

Just like a storm, Pouring down hard with lightning striking all over the sky. Appears to be scary to others, but you know itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s an amazing sight to see. Just like a sunset, Just as beautiful as the sun rises. Just like the best thing that has ever happened to you, Appearing to be even better than you thought. Just like the way you look at someone for the first time, And you know you have to somehow get their attention. Just as it could be the last time you see that someone, You do anything for them. Just like a storm. You can either be scared of what might happen, Or you can overlook the positive side, what can happen could potentially Be even better than you thought.

The scariest moment is always just before you start All you can do, is what you do Doubt, fear, expectations Better days are not so far away I pushed everyone else away because they werenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t you Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s just a bad day, not a bad life Everybody has a chapter they don't read out loud Everybody has a chapter they don't read out loud. Doubt, fear, and expectations are everyone's weakest thoughts. The scariest moments are always just before you start. All you can do, is what you do.

The Trilogy of Eden by Niko Grollman

Cursed He came from the dust where I have been cursed Cursed by breaking trust She came from he himself Sprung from bone With no knowledge of herself Trickery is my crime But who is to accuse me I did not eat the rind

Love They sit naked with no desires Separated only by air Yet somehow they have his favor The favor that I can not seem to bear They have his love A thing that I can not dream So now I must look above The tree is what I see And I know what must be Love is all but free

Slither

The plane is set So now I sit Waiting for her to bite When she succumbs who is by her side Only he from where she comes Two for the price of one perfect for me They eat and it is done But sadly for me The One found out but who said jealousy was free

America’s Dystopia. Essay by Lily Mandl In a dystopian novel written in 1944, the English writer George Orwell predicts the state of America forty years later, making a public statement about his fear of the future. According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, a dystopia is “an imaginary place where people lead dehumanized and often fearful lives.” In the novel, Oceania represents a dystopian society wherein the members of The Party believe so strongly in Big Brother that they have the illusion of living in a utopia. Today, Americans can juxtapose this novels dramatic horror in a dystopian world with our society’s uncanny similarities. Madeleine Albright has commented that “every age has its own fascism with societies divided, misuse of technology, increasing nationalism, and a misstating of the issues.” In his novel 1984, George Orwell uses Winston Smith as a symbol for hope in contrast with the fascist society in which he lives to warn his audience against the dangers of blindly following a wrongful government. In Orwell’s imaginary world, the totalitarian government works towards brainwashing an entire society to absorb only the information cleared by Big Brother to be released. Orwell choses Winston Smith to be the main character in his novel and the key piece to restoring “the faith in human progress and in man’s capacity to create a world of justice and peace” (Fromm 313). Winston Churchill may be an inspiration for Orwell’s main character as he not only shares his first name, but he also resembles Churchill’s mantra to “never never never give up.” Winston may fail in the end when O’Brien successfully re-educates Winston to believe Big Brother’s propaganda, but he is willing to fight until the bitter end, leaving room for hope. In addition, Winston represents everyday man, and is a symbol for the hope that more people are making strides in the shadows of The Party. His last name, Smith, is a key indicator that he is representative of the common man, and his views may represent those who are a part of the true brotherhood, if it exists. In the afterword to Orwell’s work, Fromm says that the Old Testament assumes that once man “develops his powers of reason and love fully, [he can] grasp the world” (Fromm 313) and become “one with his fellow man and nature” (Fromm 313). Orwell uses the dystopian world in 1984 to warn America about the dangers of the government destroying man’s freedom to “grasp at the world” (Fromm 313) in these ways. Orwell uses Winston as a symbol for a man with the desire for the freedom to become “one with his fellow man and nature” (Fromm 313).

Two pertinent issues Orwell addresses are “increasing nationalism” (Albright) and the government’s desire to publicize fake information. Winston and his fellow thought criminal, Julia, become acquainted with O’Brien, whom they believe to be a participant in the silent movement against The Party. In an age of surveillance, Winston and Julia were sheltered from the truth as the brotherhood they were thought to be a part of was a group of spies for the government. After being tortured for an immeasurable amount of time by O’Brien and his associates, Winston remains strong in the face of the man he once believed to be a beloved mentor in the brotherhood. O’Brien administers a shot into Winston’s arm, and in an instant “a blissful, healing warmth spread all through his body” (Orwell 252). In this moment, Winston had “already half-forgotten” (Orwell 252) his pain. His ignorance is “blissful” (Orwell 252), and in this moment O’Brien begins to win at his own twisted game. The goal of Big Brother is to brainwash his people and bring them all to the same conclusion that history can be rewritten, but the act of rewriting it must be forgotten. Erich Fromm writes that it would be a great shame if readers of 1984 “smugly” regarded the novel as merely “another description of Stalinist barbarism, and if he does not see that it means us, too” (Fromm 326). Although the future seems bleak, Orwell portrays a positive aspect of the future through the society’s willingness to fight against corruption and break through the oppressive confinements of the government. If Winston is at all representative of the many, then society will continue to fight until it is no longer physically possible, and even then there can be hope. Additionally, Julia’s whereabouts are still unknown, and she could be continuing the fight for freedom. Orwell leaves room for hope by ending only Winston’s story. Orwell leaves Julia, and others, to the possibility that they could be out in Oceania fighting for what is right in the hopes that his audience will learn to fight in the modern era, too. 1984 has hit the Bestseller list many times since it was written, and Orwell might be glad, or possibly saddened, to see that his novel is still relevant today. Surveillance is the new form of “misuse[d] technology” (Albright) in 2018. There is a “misstating of issues” as fake news is a theme in the media and around the White House. Both Madeline Albright and George Orwell warn America against following the path that history has taken thus far; but will America listen? If all else fails, Orwell leaves us with one option, for “if there is hope [wrote Winston] it lies in the proles” (Orwell 69).

One Generation by Noor Alsairafi

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Bigfoot by Brett Matthews People shouldn't be that scared of bigfoot His feet probably aren't much bigger than mine I wonder who the first person to see bigfoot was They probably had small feet. Bigfoot crawls back into his cave He is tired after a day of foraging for food He wishes people weren't so afraid of him. He just wants to be friends. “Oh my God, I saw Bigfoot!” Everyone shakes their head and laughs. “Bigfoot isn’t real,” they say. But I’ll show them...

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Hai Zi (1964-1989) was one of the most famous poets in mainland China after the Cultural Revolution. He was greatly influenced by Western philosophy and art. His poems have a strong influence on popular culture in Mainland China. Some of his poems have been set to songs. Most of his poems are about the sun, darkness and cornfields, providing a full presentation of youth and dreams and connecting the expressions of poetry with the emotions of life. “Facing the sea with spring blossoms” is one of his most well-known poems. Two months after writing this poem, at the age of 25, he committed suicide by lying on the path of a train. The real reason behind his death remains a mystery, but according to his family, his girlfriend left China and, broken-hearted, he killed himself.

面朝大海，春暖花开从明天起，做一个幸福的人喂马、劈柴，周游世界从明天起，关心粮食和蔬菜我有一所房子，面朝大海，春暖花开从明天起，和每一个亲人通信告诉他们我的幸福那幸福的闪电告诉我的我将告诉每一个人给每一条河每一座山取一个温暖的名字陌生人，我也为你祝福愿你有一个灿烂的前程愿你有情人终成眷属愿你在尘世获得幸福我只愿面朝大海，春暖花开

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Facing the Sea with Spring Blossoms by Hai Zi translated from the Mandarin by Yuchen Rain Ji

From tomorrow on, I will be a happy man, Grooming a horse, chopping wood, and traveling all over the world. From tomorrow on, I will care about crops and vegetables, I will live in a house facing the sea with spring flowers blossoming. From tomorrow on, I will write to each of my dear ones, telling them about my happiness, I will spread what the lightening of happiness has told me, I will name every river and every mountain. Strangers, I send you blessings. May you have a brilliant future, May you find true love, May you enjoy happiness in this world. I only wish to face the sea, with spring flowers blossoming.

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Ceramic pot by Kate Hayward

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Freedom by Christian Kummer The edge of the ocean hits the tips of my feet so soft yet swift that I flinch. The heat of the sun warms the innocence of my back so harsh yet soothing that I glow. I’ve reached the end of all knowing. This is my final destination, I think. And I sit, so soft yet swift that I flinch. The first tear comes slowly, then more and more until my eyelids are encapsulated by the biggest wave this Earth has ever seen. I did it, I did it on my own, I think. And I begin to remember the darkness of the night so harsh yet soothing that took me in and carried me away when I no longer felt that I could stay because the air of your breath and the hostility of your heart was suffocating my lungs so soft yet swift that I almost couldn’t feel it until I saw my own being start to disintegrate and the image you wanted begin to emerge. The decibel of your yelling enters my ear drums once more so harsh yet soothing and I continue to cry because finally, now, all of a sudden at the edge of nowhere, at the beginning of forever, I can finally see. The colors of the earth and the light of my surroundings is so alive, so exuberant, so magnificent that all of the thoughts I have ever had flood into my mind and escape all at once because now, you can’t reach me, you can’t see me. I’m gone but not gone at all because I, yes I, can finally see what the blindfold of your so called love hid from my eyes for all these years. The night is wild, and so am I. The future is unpredictable, and so am I. The world around me is exotic, and so am I. As the night roared on and the soil melted beneath my feet like the sun melts into the moon and the life around me screamed so loud I couldn’t even hear and the rain dripped down my sweaty body and soul, I finally overcame the division between myself and the world because you were my barrier and I left. 105

I did it, I left. And now I am one. I am the sun, and the stars, and the sky, and the moon, and the the soil, and the ocean, and the mountains, and the valleys, and the unknown. Yes, I am the mystery of nature because I plucked myself from the world of predictability that only chained me down to the weight of my fears. I whisper to myself, so soft yet swift, and soon begin to scream, louder than ever before, so harsh yet soothing … “I’m FREE!” I did it. Yes, it was me.

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STRAY SHOT 2018

Yamna Abdi Jama Noor Alsairafi Bonnie Bao Gwen Brown Bella Byrne Andrew Byrne-King Rachel Cohen Phoebe Coppola Sabryna Coppola Clare Costello Ethan Cox Michael Esposito Niko Grollman Will Hambley Kate Hayward Yuchen Rain Ji Michael Kassis Christian Kummer Phil Liu Lily Mandl Brett Matthews Sophie McAndrew Keely McGann Levi Mercier Nicole Moriarity Noemi Neubauerova Huy Pham Hunter Sansbury Jenna Sittler Griff Smith Meiye Song Hannah Tulchinsky Cole Varney Emma Ziyuan Wang Sylvia Yuanshu Wang Ariel Airan Wen Talia Zabit Erica Minjia Zhang Tony Zhang