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Ramifications


Ramifications AWTY LITERARY MAGAZINE 2013-2014


Table of Contents Cover Photo by Armish Narsi.................................................................................................................... Cover Table of Contents...................................................................................................................................... 4-6 Photograph by Armish Narsi............................................................................................................... 5 Staff credits............................................................................................................................................... 7 Art by Sarah Mohammed.................................................................................................................... 7 Nicola Kalita, “Travel of Dawn”..................................................................................................................8 Photograph by Julie Hanash.......................................................................................................... 8 Peyton Williamson, “A Trip to Colorado”...................................................................................................9 Art by Emma Sebregts................................................................................................................... 9 Jordan Oakley, “Loneliness”...................................................................................................................... 10 Photograph by Charlotte Burnod.................................................................................................. 10 Isabelle de Jong, “Deep in the Woods”..................................................................................................... 11 Art by Celine Farhat.......................................................................................................................11 Yasmeen Mawlawi, “Rain”.........................................................................................................................12 Art by Mila Ripoche....................................................................................................................... 12 Photography by Anne Schmidt..................................................................................................................13 Daniel Jason, “Zheng He”.......................................................................................................................... 14-15 Photograph by Armish Narsi......................................................................................................... 15 Carol Case, “Genesis”................................................................................................................................ 16 Art by Tian-Tian He........................................................................................................................16 Nikita Prasad, “Alive”................................................................................................................................. 17 Art by Eva Sload.............................................................................................................................17 Alejandra Gerlach, “A Dabbler”................................................................................................................. 18 Art by Aliya Khan........................................................................................................................... 18 Art by Abdelrahman Said.......................................................................................................................... 19 Sofia Doroshenko, “A Halloween Story”.................................................................................................... 20-21 Art by Quentin Nizot......................................................................................................................21 Connie Sun, “Halloween Night”.................................................................................................................22 Adriana Morales, “Oh Halloween”............................................................................................................ 22 Photograph by Bitsy Brandfield-Harvey........................................................................................ 22 Courtney Smith, “The Witch Who Had a Cat”........................................................................................... 23 Caroline Lile, “Witches’ Brew”...................................................................................................................23 Art by Connie Sun..........................................................................................................................23 Adela DePavia, “Maelstrom”..................................................................................................................... 24 Art by Anastasia Koloskov..............................................................................................................24 Art by Austin Arceneaux............................................................................................................................25 Marine Vermet, “La Jeune Fille Mystérieuse”........................................................................................... 26 Art by Marine Vermet................................................................................................................... 26 Sophia Peralta, “An Adventure of Words”................................................................................................. 27 Art by Lucila Bloemendaal.............................................................................................................27 Christel Visée, “Aquarelle sur silence”.......................................................................................................28 Art by Daniella Silverman.............................................................................................................. 28 Alex Karni, “The Son of Man”.................................................................................................................... 29 Art by Farouk Almogharbel........................................................................................................... 29 Sofia Forcella, “Shark Poem”..................................................................................................................... 30 Art by Courtney Smith...................................................................................................................30 Courtney Smith, “Shark Poem”................................................................................................................. 31 Art by Caroline Lile........................................................................................................................ 31 Art by Aidan Zamany..................................................................................................................... 31

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Alejandro Ayala, “The Phoenix”.......................................................................................................................32 Art by Natasha Morgan....................................................................................................................... 32 Art by Sabine Meyer-Hill................................................................................................................................. 33 Art by Bitsy Brandfield-Harvey........................................................................................................................ 33 Charlotte Burnod, “Internet Dreams”..............................................................................................................34 Art by Celine Farhat.............................................................................................................................34 Art by Julia Brown........................................................................................................................................... 35 Art by Jade Volluet.......................................................................................................................................... 35 Art by Connie Sun............................................................................................................................................35 Jordan Oakley, “Rêve”......................................................................................................................................36 Art by Alexis Acevedo.......................................................................................................................... 36 Lucas Anderson, “I Know a Guy”..................................................................................................................... 37 Art by Alexandra Lechin.......................................................................................................................37 Anonymous, “Ode to Trees”............................................................................................................................ 38 Art by Emma Sebregts......................................................................................................................... 38 Maria Zaharatos, “Paper Crane”...................................................................................................................... 39 Art by Austin Arceneaux......................................................................................................................39 Art by Mariana Perez.......................................................................................................................................40 Art by Tian-Tian He..........................................................................................................................................40 Art by Francesca Canjar................................................................................................................................... 40 Jonathan Sload, “They Rumble Down Hallways”.............................................................................................41 Photograph by Julie Hanash................................................................................................................ 41 Kamila Hak, “Beautiful Art”............................................................................................................................. 42 Art by Maria Jose Mora....................................................................................................................... 42 Art by Nicola Kalita.............................................................................................................................. 42 Christel Visée, “Claro (soneto)”....................................................................................................................... 43 Art by Giovanna Manisck.....................................................................................................................43 Art by Sarah Mohammed.................................................................................................................... 43 Andy Dequin, “L’heure du cri”......................................................................................................................... 44 Amandine Lesguillier, “L’heure de dormir”......................................................................................................44 Paul Baulbert, “L’heure de la mort”.................................................................................................................44-45 Mahault Menaud, “L’heure des maths”...........................................................................................................44-45 Camila Dasprez, “L’heure du docteur”.............................................................................................................45 Aya Alameddine, “L’heure de la dictée”.......................................................................................................... 45 Jonathan Sload, “The High Order of Poor Thieves”.........................................................................................46-48 Art by Alexandra Lechin.......................................................................................................................47 Art by Jana Ihnen.............................................................................................................................................49 Isabelle De Jong, “Sad”.................................................................................................................................... 50 Art by Alexis Acevedo..........................................................................................................................50 Photography by Jack Eastwood....................................................................................................................... 51 Rodrigo Amare, “The Football”....................................................................................................................... 52 Photograph by Charlotte Burnod........................................................................................................ 52 Art by Marie Farhat......................................................................................................................................... 53 Alejandra Gerlach, “Seldomly”........................................................................................................................ 54 Art by Natasha Morgan ................................................................................................................... 54 Art by Marie Kourouma.......................................................................................................................54 Art by Aitana Gorrita Lois................................................................................................................................ 55 Art by Anatole Brajot.......................................................................................................................................55 Art by Alina Hashmani.....................................................................................................................................55

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Anonymous, “Black Hole”............................................................................................................................56 Photograph by Julie Hanash............................................................................................................ 56 Jonathan Sload, “A Good Man, et al.”.......................................................................................................... 57 Photograph by Bitsy Brandfield-Harvey...........................................................................................57 Zade Shenaq, “Ultimate Game”...................................................................................................................58 Photograph by Armish Narsi............................................................................................................58 Art by Isabella Scionti.................................................................................................................................. 59 Art by Connie Sun........................................................................................................................................59 Jordan Mayer-Brownfeld, “My Cat Simon”..................................................................................................60 Isabelle de Jong, “A Beautiful Creature”...................................................................................................... 60 Photograph by Zoey Willoughby......................................................................................................60 Jessica Zhai, “West and East”...................................................................................................................... 61 Art by Holly Zambonini.................................................................................................................... 61 Margot Hasty, “Frida Khalo”........................................................................................................................ 62 Photograph by Armish Narsi............................................................................................................62 Anonymous, Untitled.................................................................................................................................. 63 Art by Hugo Sivov............................................................................................................................ 63 Anonymous, “Dear Friend”..........................................................................................................................64 Art by Alexandra Lechin...................................................................................................................64 Photograph by Charlotte Burnod................................................................................................................ 65 Photograph by Julie Hanash........................................................................................................................ 65 Joseph Abounohra, “Australia”.................................................................................................................... 66 Yian Wong, “Australia”.................................................................................................................................66 Emme Cutchall, “Sydney Opera House”...................................................................................................... 67 Marie Juery, “Uluru”.................................................................................................................................... 67 Laetitia Guerin, “Uluru”............................................................................................................................... 67 Eleanor Grosvenor, “Australia, a Haiku Poem”............................................................................................ 67 Art by Hugo Sivov........................................................................................................................................ 68 Art by Kyren Wong...................................................................................................................................... 68 Art by Sarah Haji..........................................................................................................................................69

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Ramifications Staff Upper School Hannah Smati, Editor-in-Chief Albin John, The Enforcer Lucila Bloemendaaal, Art Editor Bitsy Brandfield-Harvey, Art Editor Tian-Tian He, Art Editor Margot Hasty, Prose Editor Katie Hillyer, Prose Editor Shivam Thakkar, Prose Editor Armish Narsi, Technical Editor Elena Solimano, Editor Hannah Williams, Editor Armanda Simon Sarah Smati Annabella Wong

Middle School Patricia Troop, Sixth Grade Yamini Roy, Sixth Grade Pablo Sivov, Sixth Grade Tarek Shenaq, Sixth Grade Aamir Lateef, Sixth Grade Anushka Colaco, Sixth Grade Sofia Doroshenko, Sixth Grade Pranay Palvadi, Sixth Grade Maria Zaharatos, Eighth Grade

Sponsors Tricia McFarlin, English Department Sarasu Zachariah, English Department

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Travel of Dawn The starry, dark sky, Flies peacefully by, The crinkled mountains, Deemed to raise voices with velvets of sparking snow. The gold of sun, the clear rain drops, sprinkle the window with its happiness. Gently, Gently, Gently. Floating like delicate clouds, Glide, free bird. Skies of every hue, glide is to bird as scurry is to mouse. I’m trembling with joy as I hear singing of children, and cold air circles, my heated body. Gently, Gently, Gently.

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Nicola Kalita Third Grade

Photo by Julie Hanash Twelfth Grade


A Trip to Colorado Brown Rocky Mountains, Cold, crystal clear blue rivers flowing Down the stream Flowing fast as people running Cold white snow falling Softly to the ground Sunny with daylight shimmering On the snow Like glass sparkling Snow falling Rivers flowing Wind blowing trees Make me feel excited Rivers Blue like the crystal clear Australian Sea River is to water as desert is to land What is it like In Spring? Makes me feel happy Happy, happy, happy Makes me feel safe Cold, white brown Colorado Peyton Williamson In the winter Third Grade Cold as ice

Art by Emma Sebregts Seventh Grade

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If loneliness were a color, It would be grey. As dim as a cloudy sky. If loneliness were a taste, It would be just like watery soup. If lonely were a feeling, It would be hollow as a lightning struck tree. If loneliness were a smell, It would be as unwanted as the smell of burning hair. If loneliness were a sound, It would be as empty as wind in an abandoned room. Jordan Oakley Eighth Grade

Photo by Charlotte Burnod Terminale

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Deep in the Woods Somewhere deep in the woods, the woods There are people mysterious hoods And when it turns to night, many fright Of these creatures that will never stop the fight When they sneak around without a sound You may hear a sudden pound And just like that with a crack Your friend disappears, just like that The endless howling of sorrow You’re warned, don’t come back tomorrow Now the creatures have gotten their goods Somewhere deep in the woods, the woods Isabelle de Jong Seventh Grade

Art by Celine Farhat Seventh Grade

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Rain

Rain. Blowing against the trees Hitting the windows with a soft pitter patter, pitter patter Falling from the dark clouds above. Rain. Changing life from gold to grey Covering our bright sun Falling from the dark clouds above. Rain. Quenching the thirst of the farmer’s farm Allowing the smallest sampling to bloom into the largest tree Falling from the dark clouds above. Yasmeen Mawlawi Seventh Grade

Art by Mila Ripoche Third Grade

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Photos by Anne Schmidt Tenth Grade

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Zheng He 郑和

Nǐmen hǎo! 你们好! Hello to you all!   Nǐmen kàn chūlái wǒ shì shuíle ma? 你们看出来我是谁了吗? Do you know who I am?   Wǒ shì zhōngguó míng cháo de shuǐshǒu zhèng hé. 我是中国明朝的水手郑和。 I am the Ming Dynasty sailor Zheng He.    Wǒ zài yúnnán chūshēng. 我在云南出生.  I was born in Yunnan.   Photo by Armish Narsi Zài zhàndòu zhōnglìle gōng, chéngwéi huángdì de péngyǒu. Twelfth Grade 在战斗中立了功, 成为皇帝的朋友. After my homeland was captured by war, I befriended the emperor.   Wǒ wèile wǒ de huángdì, gēnzhe wǒ de bǎochuán, lì jīng liǎo wú shǔ de hángchéng. 我为了我的皇帝,跟着我的宝船, 历经了无数的航程。 He gave me the provisions to become an explorer; I got huge treasure ships and went on countless voyages.    Wǒ céngjīng qī cì xià xīyáng, dài yībǎi duō zhī chuán, liǎng wàn duō rén. 我曾经七次下西洋,带一百多只船,两万多人。 I went on seven voyages, with over one hundred boats and more than 20,000 people.   Dì yī chéng, wǒ qù de shì yìndù. 第一程, 我去的是印度.  On my first voyage, I went to India.   Yǐhòu wǒ qùle ālābó hé fēizhōu. 以后我去了阿拉伯和非洲.  Later, I went to Africa and Arabia.    Dài gěi huángdì yī fèn tèbié de lǐwù– yī zhǐ fēizhōu chángjǐnglù. 带给皇帝一份特别的礼物 – 一只非洲长颈鹿. I even gave the emperor a special gift—an African giraffe.  

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Wǒ bāng míng cháo jiànlìle qiángdà dì hǎishàng lìliàng, dǎjí hǎidào wǒ xiāngxìn “hǎi qiáng zé guó qiáng, hǎi jìng zé guó níng.” 我帮明朝建立了强大的海上力量, 打击海盗我相信“海强则国强,海静则国宁。” I helped the Ming Dynasty establish a strong naval force to combat pirates.  I believe in the saying, "If the sea is strong, China is strong; if the sea is calm, then China is calm."   Nǐmen kěyǐ xiǎngxiàng yīxià: Zhème yī zhǐ guīmó pángdà de jiànduì yàoshi hé yīgè guójiā dǎ qǐ zhàng lái, yīdìng huì yíng de! 你们可以想象一下:这么一只规模庞大的舰队要是和一个国家打起仗来,一定会赢的! You can imagine: With such a large fleet, if a war broke out, China would win!   Kěshì, wǒmen cónglái méiyǒu píngzhe zìjǐ qiángdà de lìliàng ér qīfù ruòxiǎo. 可是,我们从来没有凭着自己强大的力量而欺负弱小。 However, we never use power to bully others.   Yīnwèi wǒ bù xǐhuan zhímín; yīnwèi wǒ rènwéi suǒyǒu rén shì rén, wǒmen shàngle àn, jiù yòng zìjǐ guójiā de dōngxi, hé dāngdì de rén jìnxíng jiāohuàn. 因为我不喜欢殖民 ;因为我认为所有人是人,我们上了岸,就用自己国家的东西,和当 地的人进行交换。 I do not like colonialism because I think everyone is human; we are on their shore, in their own country, and they have the right to their own land.    Wǒ bù zhímín, yīnwèi wǒ shì zhōngguó rén. 我不殖民, 因为我是中国人。  I do not colonize, because I am Chinese.   Wǒ zuìjìn qù wèizhī de tǔdì. Tā fēicháng měilì. 我最近去未知的土地.  它非常美丽.  I recently went to an unknown land and found it very beautiful.   Tā yǒu duō shān hé mù. 它有多山和木. It has mountains and trees.   Wǒ bù zhīdào shì wèizhī de tǔdì, hòu yǐ tā shì hěn zhuànglì, jiù xiàng zhōngguó hé de rén. 我不知道是未知的土地, 后以他是很壮丽,就像中国和的人. I do not know much about the unknown land, but it is spectacular, like China and its people.   Kàn kàn shíjiān. Xiànzài wǒ qù bàogào gěi huángdì. 看看时间.  现在我去报告给皇帝。 Look at the time.  Now I must go report to the emperor.   Dàjiā xièxiè. 大家谢谢! Thank You! Daniel Jason Eleventh Grade

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Genesis Aged marble mother Quarried from the matrix of space, Shaped by polar pressures, Baked in the kiln of the sun, Lapped in solar currents, Spun in an artisan’s hand, Then flung spinning Free. Carol Case

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Art by Tian-Tian He Tenth Grade


Art by Eva Sload Tenth Grade

Alive

The heart pumps it through the veins. It flows through you. Consumes you. It makes you breathe and feel alive. Be happy, be free.

But a storm begins to form overhead. For nowadays nobody cares about happy and free. They only care about portraying excellence. The truth stands, we are born and one day we will be buried beneath the Earth, or scattered in a river. Our life in between is not to please anybody but ourselves. And nothing replaces that feeling of alive. Nothing. Not fame. Not fortune. Nikita Prasad Eleventh Grade 17


A Dabbler I’m a dabbler I dabble never commit I sip never drink I taste never consume I try something Wet my feet never swim I Enjoy it But as soon as my pleasure in it dims, I stop And save it For another day Alejandra Gerlach Seventh Grade

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Art by Aliya Khan Ninth Grade


Art by Abdelrahman Said Twelfth Grade

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A Halloween Story It was a dark and stormy night, typed Ella on her computer. “No,” she thought. “This has to be original, not some dumb old story in a book that you can buy at the dollar store.” Ella was typing her Halloween short story for the National Texas Young Author’s Halloween competition. She thought that the fact that it was Halloween that day would give her inspiration, but all she could think about was trick-or-treating with her friends. Sadly, Ella had to finish her story because it was due the next day and the prize for the best short story was a hundred dollars. “A hundred dollars,” she thought. That’ll show her friends not to bother her about missing Halloween. However, Ella was not planning on spending her prize money on Halloween candy; she considered herself much more mature than that. She now got invited to all of the fun parties by the kids at her school ever since her birthday, as she was now as old as her peers at school. That wouldn’t be for long, since she was one year younger than all of them and in a couple of months, when most of the others have their birthdays, she will be one year younger again. Ella was still thinking about parties when she suddenly realized that she had a Halloween party to go to. “Oh great,” thought Ella. “I’m late to the biggest party of the year.” Ella quickly put on some new jeans and a really nice navy top, with patterns embellished on it. The party was hosted by none other than Cole, her popular cousin. Ella was planning on asking her mom if she could drive her to Cole’s house but since her mom was overloaded with work, she decided to ride her bike there. As soon as she got to Cole’s house, she rang the doorbell. Not surprisingly, nobody answered. It was a Halloween party, after all. Also not to Ella’s surprise, the door was unlocked. The house was pitch black and she could hear whimpering voices in the closets. “Wow,” thought Ella, “so this is what it’s like to be the last one here.” She peered into one of the closets and saw Cole’s cold, hazel eyes staring back at her. “Run,” said Brandon, one of his friends. “Bloody Mary is in here and she’s gone insane.” As usual, Ella was used to hearing these words. Mary Brooding was a girl in their grade who was severely bullied because of the fact that she was an albino. Honestly, Ella thought it was ridiculous that Cole and his friends called Mary “Bloody Mary” just because of her appearance. They often ran screaming from the room when Mary walked into it. Mary had numerous nosebleeds and because of her “ghostly” appearance and the frequent events that ended up with blood on her face, many of the children in Ella’s grade called her “Bloody Mary.” Ella did not know that her opinion of Mary would change greatly that night. Disrupted from her thoughts, Ella heard a faint moan and she decided that it was just a prank. “That’s it, just a prank,” she told herself. Ella had had problems a couple of years ago where she was paranoid about everything. The door creaking was a sign of a serial killer ready to pounce on her. The sound from her toaster was a murderer loading his gun. She now had to reassure herself that it was nothing. When Ella finally found the kitchen, she found a glass of punch that looked like it hadn’t been drunk out of. As she drank out of the glass, she heard a faint sipping noise behind her. Ella turned around and found a small glowing girl with ghastly white skin and white hair. Ella recognized that the figure was Mary too late, as the figure lunged at her, so close that she could feel the breath of its mouth, and it smelled highly of blood. Mary tackled her to the ground and held a knife to her throat at an alarming distance. Mary’s face was covered in blood and her white clothes were torn. Mary stared at Ella with her cold, blue, dead eyes and asked her in a raspy whisper, “Where are they? I will make them pay.” With her whimpering hand, Ella pointed to the closet where Cole was hiding. As soon as Mary turned around, she began sprinting up the stairs to hide from Mary. Little did she know that this would be a very big mistake. Ella quickly made her way up the stairs and when she got up, she saw a dark room filled with security cameras. She went to the far side of the room and looked at the computer screen, figuring

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out that this was the computer screen that showed the views from the several security cameras installed inside the house. Ella felt better knowing that the police would find out that Mary was guilty for this damage. Suddenly, Ella’s eyes darted to the computer screen and she noticed that Mary was looking inside the closet and did not see anything in there. Ella re-wound the recording and saw that Cole and his friends had left out the front door only a minute before Mary had looked in there. Ella feared that Mary would seek revenge on her for giving her the wrong hiding spot of her victims. Then, Ella saw it. The most frightening thing she had seen in her life so far. Through the screen, she saw the ghostly figure that was Mary slowly and carefully creeping up the stairs and opening the door to the room that she was in. Then, the truth dawned on her. She realized that this recording was re-wound ninety seconds and that Mary had entered the room ninety seconds ago, therefore making Mary already in the room. Cautiously, Ella flicked off the light switch that was next to her and hoped that Mary could not see her escape in the dark. Ella saw a dark, vague shape turning around the corner that Ella was in but, luckily, Mary did not notice her. Ella waited for Mary to come to the very far side of the room and be facing away from her. Mary appeared to be surveying the area for any sudden movement. “Smart girl,” thought Ella. “Too bad she’s gone crazy.” Ella felt so blessed that Mary had not noticed her. Quickly, she ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the door and she did not stop running until she was across the street and safely camouflaged in the crowd of trick-or-treaters on the street. Ella felt very grateful that she had escaped the house alive. As she took one last look at the house that was sheltering Mary the Maniac, as Ella now called her, she saw Mary peering back at her through the window, with a grin on her face from ear to ear, with a bloody knife in her hand. Sofia Doroshenko Sixth grade

Art by Quentin Nizot CM1

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Halloween Night A witch is flying in the night. A ghost and an old goblin fight. The sky is full of bats. In the haunted houses there were a lot of cats. The witch ate a lot of bones. There were a lot of stones. I saw a witch in the sky. I said to the witch good-bye. Connie Sun Second Grade

Oh Halloween Oh Halloween,

Preparing weeks in advance Decorating houses And buying candy to hand out.

On this special night Children roam the streets. They go from house to house Screaming, “Trick or Treat!”

It’s very fun you know, With free candy everywhere. But watch out because Some things will give you quite a scare!

As the night ends, The lights dim. The houses close their doors, It’s now time to go home.

But don’t worry, Because you’ve had a good time And a bag full of candy To top off the night! Adriana Morales Seventh Grade

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Art by Bitsy Brandfield-Harvey Tenth Grade


The Witch Who Had a Cat The witch has a cat! The ghost likes a bat! The witch sleeps in a ditch! She likes to snitch! The witch comes out at night! She waits till the moon is bright! She makes the kids scream! They wish it was a dream! The kids start to cry! The witch says good-bye! Courtney Smith Second Grade

Witches’ Brew It’s Halloween night and time for stew. As Ghouls like to call it, witches’ brew. Trick or Treaters give me a scare. Spooky costumes are everywhere!

Art by Connie Sun Second Grade

Scary spiders on the door. Children won’t come anymore. Candy wrappers all over the room. I think I should clean it up with my broom. Caroline Lile Second Grade

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Maelstrom

I hold a sea inside myself. Turbid gallons, pressing out against translucent membrane, filling my skin like overripe fruit. I groan at the seams, but ward others off, careful lest I prick the film and collapse in waves of mud and wind and song. I trap a sea inside myself. As a child, I listened to its rage echoed in a shell, singing against my ear. Now, I stand, watching sodden books, shattered toys, and ruined pictures roll in the tide, but clutch to myself this last treasure. The storm shall not take it. I feel the winds tearing at my throat, and my head, full of churning blood and foam, of salt and stinging gusts and rhythmic chorus pounding. And with the lightning flashing in my teeth, amidst the frantic froth, I cleave unto my rock Adela DePavia Eleventh Grade

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Art by Anastasia Koloskov Twelfth Grade


Art by Austin Arceneaux Twelfth Grade

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La jeune fille mystérieuse Mon amie a 10 ans. Elle habite près de Paris, au Plessis-Robinson, avenue Charles de Gaulle. Son papa s’appelle David, sa maman s’appelle Anne et ses frères se nomment Gauthier et Brieux ; Gauthier a 7 ans et Brieux en a 3. Elle est en CM2 (comme moi !).

La jeune fille mystérieuse est: Ma meilleure amie, Iseline Fouché

Elle a les cheveux roux comme les poils d’un renard et boucles comme le pelage d’un mouton avant d’être couple. Ces cils s’accordent parfaitement avec sa chevelure touffue. Cette jeune fille a des taches de rousseur partout sur le visage. Elle a un nez parfait et une bouche très souriante. Ses narines sont tellement rondes qu’on dirait qu’elles ont été tracées au compas. Elle a une voix si douce que, parfois, j’aimerais que cette fillette soit ma sœur ou ma maman. Elle a les yeux marron clair qui lui donnent un air très gentil ! Elle est la plus gentille jeune fille que je connaisse (avec mon autre amie, Clothilde). Comme régulièrement j’oubliais d’écrire certains devoirs dans mon cahier de texte, je l’appelais pour qu’elle me dise ce que je n’avais pas note. Si nous nous étions dispute ce jour-là, elle me rassurait en me disant qu’elle était toujours mon amie. Son seul défaut serait qu’elle est un peu bavarde (mais moins que moi). Elle est ouverte, c’est comme ça qu’elle se fait autant d’amis. Elle aime beaucoup la danse. D’ailleurs, avant, nous en faisions ensemble. Elle aime aussi les animaux, parce que la plupart sont mignons et qu’elle aime les caresser. Elle n’aime pas manger les fruits, elle pense que ce n’est pas bon, c’est bizarre car presque tout le monde aime les fruits ! Elle a l’habitude de lire au lit et de se lever aux alentours de 9 heures les week-ends. J’ai choisi cette personne car c’était ma meilleure amie et qu’elle le sera pour toujours. Marine Vermet CM2

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Art by Marine Vermet CM2


An Adventure of Words Adventurous as a wild horse, wonderful books, pages flipping, smooth, dark cover. An adventure of worlds, wonderful books. Words is to books as addition is to math. Words, Pictures, Wonderful books. Will it ever end? I hope not! The book has feelings, wonderful books, letters, a story, complete. Sophia Peralta Third Grade

Art by Lucila Bloemendaal Twelfth Grade

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Aquarelle sur silence Sur la toile complexe que tissent nos vies, Prendre le pinceau pourtant; Tracer, à torts et à travers, Des esquisses émouvantes, Des étoiles filantes, Des sables mouvants de dire et d’agir; Haute voltige des feuilles mortes dans le vent, Danse de nos désastres Dans les nuages, Nuages invisibles, nuages incompréhensibles, Comment taire ce qui ne peut être entendu Et entendre ce qui ne peut être dit ? Nuages indicibles, nuages imperceptibles. Pluie de silence. Etre cette toile blanche; Cette étoile tremblante; Et à l’horizon, Inventer encore une fois les couleurs D’un arc-en-ciel; A l’eau de nos errances, Sur l’étoile du silence, Une aquarelle. Christel Visée

Art by Daniella Silverman Fifth Grade

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The Son of Man

(Inspired by Magritte’s Le fils de l’homme) This famous sheet, that belongs to Magritte is quite mysterious. The hovering apple… Is he hiding something, or is he biting it? Why is he peaking out? Is he shy and getting the courage to talk? The water in the distance is still and calm, unlike the windy, stormy clouds. The bowler hat… So distinguished! Curved and fancy, all at the same time. His arm twisted back, but unharmed. What a surprising piece of art! Alex Karni Third Grade

Art by Farouk Almogharbel CM1

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Shark Poems I am a scary sight. I have pink skin. I have very sharp teeth. I have a long nose and a very long tail.

I am a weird shark. I have five gills. It sees me well. I eat deep-sea fish and squid.

It hears splashing.

I live in deep water near the coast.

It feels hard. It understands that everyone is afraid of him.

My fangs look like a vampire.

It moves its body side to side.

I hide and am not seeing much.

It needs food and water.

No one has to worry because

It likes food.

I am harmless.

It wants to be the king of the sea.

Art by Caroline Lile Second Grade

It eats fish, seals, sea lions, and dolphins. What am I?

It dreams it did not have to go hunting for prey. Sofia Forcella Second Grade

Courtney Smith Second Grade

Art by Courtney Smith Second Grade

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Art by Aidan Zamany Second Grade 31


The Phoenix Flying through the air On wings of fire Eyes like twin suns Death, rebirth The endless cycle Like the rising and setting of sun Through the harsh night Its spirit burns brightly Keeping darkness at bay And yet only one creature may do this Truly suspicious Yet beautiful Alejandro Ayala Fifth Grade

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Art by Natasha Morgan Fifth Grade


Art by Sabine Meyer-Hil Tenth Grade

Art by Bitsy Branfield-Harvey Tenth Grade

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Internet Dreams Digital dreams Midnight snack The clock hand shifts Ever so slightly Pixels vacillate I rub my forehead Marks on my nose I surf the web I surf a void Of anxiety  Depression And loneliness Hopping from link to link Twitter Facebook Instagram Youtube Reddit The New York Times Netflix Craigslist Slate The Atlantic Google Maps Ebay A dizzying flurry of text, and images Words on a screen I bookmark articles and websites Something to read in case of a rainy day I collect digital lint In my virtual pocket Forever growing Always carrying For what? Internet dreams Microchip and motherboard Become my salvation Charlotte Burnod Terminale

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Art by Celine Farhat Seventh Grade


Art by Connie Sun Second Grade

Art by Julia Brown CE1

Art by Jade Volluet CE1

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Rêve

Je nage dans une vie de larmes Une vie d’obscurité Une vie de solitude. Quand nous dormons, on voie du noir. Dans nos vies de mensonge On rêve du lendemain. Dans nos vies de monstres, C’est léger et bien Rêve Jordan Oakley Eighth Grade

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Art by Alexis Acevedo Twelfth Grade


I Know a Guy

This poem is dedicated to Albin, with solidarity. I know a guy, who devotes thirty minutes every evening to piano his fingers fluttering across the keys, pianissimo then striking seamlessly in firm staccato then thirty minutes of violin bow flowing from note to note jubilantly then thirty minutes of Chinese carefully tracing characters and wielding tones like weapons on and on, partitioning his free time into learning segments I think about him sometimes, while wrapped snugly In a blanket, binging on House of Cards. I know a girl, who navigates social circles like a catamaran, the kind so technologically advanced that only the rudder reliably stays in the water She drinks in conversation and offers witty, pertinent replies and smiles so that her eyes light up like a vampire, luring in a victim She has written the book on networking. No really, she wrote a book on networking. And her Facebook page, website, Twitter, LinkedIn and Instagram make you want to hire her in a heartbeat I think about her, sometimes, when I eschew that party or that social network for a voyage into a good book. Using these examples as measuring sticks I come up short For I am an adherent of the Law of Diminishing Returns and when the going gets tough, I flee to some new pursuit. I’ve studied German until declensions reared their ugly head, then moved to other pastures, like table tennis, until the suggested way to make progress was to serve hundreds of balls to an empty table Then took up programming, until my questions could no longer be answered by a quick Google search I am a jack-of-all-trades, but short of being a polymath And that’s fine. I will take pride in being one hell of a dabbler. Lucas Anderson

Art by Alexandra Lechin Twelfth Grade (painted in individual squares)

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Ode to Trees O mighty tree, how great you are Your branches almost touch the stars Your beauty, your majestic leaves, How wonderful you always seem From tiny acorns to giant oaks, To your roots that in the ground do soak Alas, how cruel someone must be To chop down such a wondrous tree But sadly, many people do This unforgivable thing to you They build wood houses in your place I know not why, but it’s such a disgrace. Trees make the air fit to breathe For humans and other living things And what if tall trees did not grow? The birds would have no place to go. Without trees, we all would surely die Everyone, even you and I. But thankfully, there are people who care That generations from now, trees still are there I hope that the people who now cut trees down Soon will think of such things and frown. There is a chance for us to start anew If we all recycle, reduce, and reuse We all must take a tree to plant For if we do, then fail we can’t The Earth can become an environment Of which none will have reason to lament So a message for all, from sea to sea: Save the planet and plant a tree!

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Anonymous Eleventh Grade

Art by Emma Sebregts Seventh Grade


Paper Crane It flies with its delicate wings Perched on a shelf, soaring higher, The paper crane beautifully sings, Before falling to the fire. It chants words of wisdom engraved, On a surface that brings Knowledge to the people saved And danger to the kings. Maria Zaharatos 4ème

Art by Austin Arceneaux Twelfth Grade

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Peintures inspirées de la nouvelle «Comment Wang-Fô fut sauvé» de Marguerite Yourcenar

Mariana Perez Tenth Grade

Tian-Tian He Tenth Grade

Francesca Canjar Tenth Grade

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Photo by Julie Hanash Twelfth Grade

They Rumble Down Hallways They rumble down hallways, Like peals of thunder. They crash up the stairways And cause kids to blunder. I speak, of course, of that transit scourge, The bane of fast hall walkers, The rolling backpacks we all know, Huge, immense hall blockers. Only the elderly and the gravely ill Should own handicap backpacks like those. If you aren’t a hundred and don’t have the plague, Keep your rolling weight rack off of my toes. We have decent sized lockers, and backpacks with straps, That fasten however you need. So would you please keep your thousand-pound textbooks Off of my feet, I plead. And for the love of god, if you value your life, Don’t stop halfway up the stairs. It isn’t my fault your entire locker Is too heavy to lift; no one cares. So please for yourself, and for those around you, Push rolling thoughts out of your head. Because if you trip me on the stairs again Jonathan Sload Someone is ending up dead.  Twelfth Grade

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Beautiful Art Look at that inside light Streaming through windows Hue like the light blue sea And the beautiful sunset Beautiful art it is Would dark colors be pretty alone? Like colored peacocks Beautiful art it really is Trapped inside with this annoying smell As paint is to palate As pencil is to paper No thinking, just silent Like foxes. That’s really beautiful art. Kamila Hak Third grade

Art by Maria Jose Mora Twelfth Grade

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Art by Nicola Kalita Third Grade


Claro (soneto)

Poesía, gozo, clama tu alma; En pos de pozos de luz, te has ido; Sabe a silencio, silencio sabio, Su leve caricia, calma tu alma; Y en el claroscuro de la selva, Una voz chorrea, abre un claro; Tu latido, a los ojos del mundo, Apacible respiro, agua viva; Alcanzas, al borde de las palabras, En el estanque de sedienta sombra, En pleno vuelo, de noche, a tientas, Una libélula - presencia clara Resplandor azulado, de sus alas, De tus manos, esperando un alba. Christel Visée

Art by Giovanna Manisck Twelfth Grade

Art by Sarah Mohammed Tenth Grade

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L’heure de la mort Minuit, Voici l’heure de la mort. Sortant de sa maison, Un homme surgit dans l’obscurité Il entre dans un champ privé S’approche du centre du terrain A une allure rapide Pour qu’on ne puisse pas le voir Il sort sa pioche Bien dissimulée dans sa veste Avec un acier brillant Il commence à creuser Et d’un seul coup, comme un assassin Jette avec férocité Des graines de petit-pois. Paul Baubert CM2

L’heure du cri Dix heures voici l’heure du cri Rentrant dans une maison Une personne est très pressée Sur la pointe des pieds Elle avance dans le noir Sans être entendue Elle monte les escaliers Avec son bonnet noir Et ses mains cachées Elle arrive dans le salon Puis, tout d’un coup Avant que les autres puissent réagir Elle crie : Maman où est mon doudou ! Andy Dequin CM2

Amandine Lesguillier CM2

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Une heure. Voici l’heure du docteur, Entrant dans un immeuble gigantesque. Le docteur me dit d’attendre dans une petite salle. Il revient, D’un air méchant Je frotte ses mains Et saisit une piqure L’aiguille est longe et pointue Puis, en masquant son sourire diabolique Avec un rire d’outre-tombe Il met l’autre main dans sa poche Et, d’un seul coup comme un taureau Avant que je ne puisse m’enfuir Il retire sa main de sa poche et sort… Un bonbon ! Camila Dasprez CM2

L’heure de dormir Sept heures. Voice l’heure de dormir. Sortant de la salle à manger, Une femme surgit dans l’escalier. Entre dans la chambre, Lâche des jupes et des T-shirt. Tirant une mince silhouette, Elle la pousse dans le lit Lui met un habit de couleur Et referme la porte. Voyant de la lumière qui dépasse Elle entre soudainement dans la chambre, Et crie à la victime : « Elodie, c’est l’heure de dormir ! »

L’heure du docteur

L’heure de la dictée L’heure des maths Dix heures. Voici l’heure des maths. Entrant dans une vieille classe. Une femme cria sur les enfants. Elle demanda d’écrire la date. Ferma la porte grinçante Demanda de sortir notre belle ardoise Et une règle Dont le bout était bien pointu Puis traça un trait bien droit Avec une règle Elle sortit d’une boite bleu Une… Flute traversière et joua un morceau Mahault Menand CM2

Dix heures. Voici l’heure de la dictée Sortant mon crayon à papier, Mon maitre surgit devant moi Il gratte sa main, Me regarde S’approche de ma table, J’ai très peur Avec une touche de sa cravate, Le maitre tourne autour de moi Avec son stylo magique Et ses yeux ronds et verts Il s’arrête juste devant moi Il regarde ma dictée… Et me dit qu’il faut souligner la date en rouge Aya Alameddine CM2

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The High Order of Poor Thieves Floorboards creaked and furnishings clattered to the ground as Eric raced through the halls of the abandoned church. Up stairs, through corridors and around corners he ran, heart pounding in his chest like the furious beat of a mad drummer. Every few seconds, Eric glanced back over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure if they were following or not, but getting caught was not something that Eric intended to do. At last, the final hallway opened up into a loft of sorts, a private place of worship for the devoted cleric. Dusty tapestries hung from the walls, while the wooden roof peaked sharply above Eric’s head. Turning, Eric closed the door behind him as quickly and quietly as he could. He slid down the rough, iron-banded wood, chest heaving up and down faster than anyone’s should. And then there was silence. Silence, and darkness. He should never have followed Alric into the tunnels. He should never have believed in the promise of a safe haven for the homeless, in the dream of a lowest place that wouldn’t allow him to sink any lower. Two days. Two days was all it had taken for the city guard to raid the place. And now Alric was dead, and Eric was hiding in an old church, and soon he would be back on the streets or rotting in jail, depending on whether or not the guard found him. A lowest place. A snag in the slippery slope. Eric laughed as a tear ran down his cheek. The night sky peeked out at him, stars shining through the gaps in the stained glass window before him. Part of Eric wished the guard would find him and be done with it. He was tired of fighting, tired of trying to make something of himself in a place where you stay where you’re born, like it or not. Even if their home is the Capitol City of the Imperium, sons of poor foreigners grow up to be poor foreigners themselves. Sons of beggars, beggars in kind. “Someone’s had a bad day.” Eric was on his feet in the blink of an eye, looking around for the source of the voice. “What’s the matter? Been caught in a raid, have we?” Slowly, gracefully, the crouching form of what Eric had thought to be a statue rose to its feet. He was outlined in a halo of moonlight, the stained glass window behind him a fractured nimbus. “Nasty bit of business, that.” The man jumped down from the windowsill. He was wearing a tight pair of dun-colored trousers and a too-large shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. A strip of frayed cloth covered the man’s face and neck from the nose down. “Wish I could’ve helped, but other matters needed my attention.” A sudden surge of anger overcame Eric. “Other matters?” He said, almost shouting at the stranger. “My friends are going to jail, some dead, and you say there were other matters?” “Well, I did have to follow you. You’re a quick one, friend.” “Why follow me?” “Funny thing, panic.” The man took a few meandering steps towards Eric. “Some freeze like cats that hear a loud noise in the face of it. Others stand and fight, like heroes. Usually dead heroes, granted, but heroes nonetheless. You, however, did the only smart thing one can do when faced with insurmountable odds.”

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“What?” “Run.” Eric couldn’t see the man’s mouth, but his eyes beamed at him. “You run, Eric.” “How do you—” “And fast, too.” Then, like a match in the wind, Eric’s anger went cold in his chest, and he felt the weight of solitude descend once more onto his shoulders. “What does it matter?” He said, posture drooping. “I can’t run forever, and without anyone on my side, that’s what I’ll have to do.” “I agree. You can’t run forever. However, I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to.” Eric’s brow furrowed. “Who are you?” The man put his hands on his hips. “Faris Creed, priest of the High Order of Poor Thieves.” “Poor thieves?” Faris shrugged. “I agree; they could’ve picked a better name. But at least they were being honest. Allow me to explain: I’m sure you’ve felt useless at some point in your life. Now, perhaps. Downtrodden, beaten, you’ve probably asked yourself: how can I do something meaningful? Well, look no further.” “But what exactly does the Order do?” “Insurgency, revolution, thievery. You know,” Faris nodded, “fun stuff.” Eric was at the point of going back to the guards. “Get away from me. I’ve heard people like you before,

Art by Alexandra Lechin Twelfth Grade

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promising a better life, a new chance to make a difference. They’ve only ever led me from bad to worse.” “Ah, but this is no ramshackle group of vagabonds. Well, it is, but we’re better, trust me.” He held out his hand, and a thick plume of fire sprung up above his palm, illuminating Faris’ smiling eyes and, no doubt, Eric’s look of incredulity. “We’re a bit more careful in our recruiting. And a bit more secretive.” “You’re a cleric?” Faris waved his hand back and forth to extinguish the flame. “No. Well, sort of. The point is, we want you.” “Why?” “I told you: you run quickly.” “That’s it?” “We can work on it.” Footsteps sounded below them. Eric instinctively looked at the floorboards, the dread of a cornered animal creeping its way into his mind. “Ah, it looks as though our time is up. Eric, why we want you isn’t important. The High Order of Poor Thieves doesn’t care too terribly about who joins for what reasons.” “I thought you said you were more selective?” “Details, details.” The tramp of boots could be heard coming up the stairs, accompanied by the jingling of mail. Eric backed away from the door until he and Faris were practically pressed against the stained glass window behind them. Faris put an arm around Eric. “There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have to make a decision: do I want to walk into an unsatisfactory future, or take the terrifying leap into the bleary, unknown depths of change?” Voices could be heard outside the door. “Well, Eric.” The door banged open, revealing three heavily armed guards. “Want to join the priesthood?” The bleary, unknown depths of change looked pretty good to Eric at that point. He nodded his head. Faris pulled the cloth over his face down to reveal a gleaming white smile surrounded by a slight outgrowth of facial hair. “Fantastic.” Turning to the guards, Faris took a deep breath as they drew nearer. Right as they were about to run him through, he pursed his lips and spit a tremendous gout of fire at them, setting the room ablaze and sending the guards into chaos. Faris grabbed Eric’s shirt with both hands and brought his face very close, giddy with excitement. Eric had never been more terrified in his life. “Just warning you, Eric, flying and falling feel much the same at first.” “What?” With that, Faris sprang through the stained glass window with Eric in tow, laughing and shouting as they hurtled into the unknown in a shower of color and light. Jonathan Sload Twelfth Grade

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Art by Jana Ihnen Tenth Grade

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Sad Sadness If sadness were a color It would be gray As a sky on a rainy autumn day. If sadness were a taste, It would be just like Bland cheese on stale bread. If sadness were a feeling , It would be as gloomy as a burial. If sadness were a smell, It would be as musty as the damp ground If sadness were a sound, It would be as lonely as a single tuba. Isabelle de Jong Seventh Grade

Art by Alexis Acevedo Twelfth Grade

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Photos by Jack Eastwood Fifth Grade

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The Football Football, Football Used for a sport, Football, Football, Don’t bring it to the port. Throw is to football, Hit is to bat, But this is a football So don’t bring a cat. The ball is thrown, UP in the air. Is he going to catch it, Maybe, but it’s rare. Wind is pushing, Crowd is loud, Who will catch it, On whose hands will it be found? Flying as fast as a high speed jet, Are they going to catch it? Do you want to bet? It’s a small, Brownish color airplane, Higher, higher Soaring down the lane. He caught it! He’s gone! Touchdown! We won! We won, we won! It’s time to celebrate, Oh wait, I forgot I’m going on a date. Rodrigo Amare Third Grade

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Photo by Charlotte Burnod Twelfth Grade


Art by Marie Farhat Eleventh Grade (Made with coffee stains)

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Seldomly

I’ve seldom met a girl Who can honestly say, “I am who I am and I like me this way.” I’ve seldom met a girl Who could look in the mirror and like what she sees And look like the person she wants to be. Whether it’s how tall she grew, The “cool” people she knows, Their color or type of hair, Or if she has it everywhere, Or the acne on her face, Or her lack of confident grace, Or her type of build, Or her talent, happy, guild. Most girls believe they have many Imperfections But they seldom have any.

Art by Natasha Morgan Fifth Grade

And I promise this is true: There is someone out there Jealous of you. Of your perfect skin, And beautiful hair, Of your glowing eyes, And smile that’s rare, Of your hobbies, your talents, And your cautious grace, Of your body, your height, And your beautiful face, Of your grades, your smarts, And your golden heart, Of your jokes that are funny, And you when you’re sunny.

Art by Marie Kourouma Fifth Grade

Of your good traits – many – Imperfections – not any – I’ve seldom met a girl Who knew she didn’t have to be “cool.” That she is a gem and a jewel, With a heart of gold, And a humor that never gets old, With perfect skin, smile, eyes and hair, That she is special and rare. I promise this is true: Someone out there loves you for you.

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Seldom Seldomly.

Alejandra Gerlach Seventh Grade


Art by Aitana Gorrita Lois CE1

Art by Anatole Brajot CE1

Art by Alina Hashmani First Grade

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Black Hole I look back to the memories we made. The ones before it all went wrong. And I think. I think if there was something I could have done. Something that I could’ve said that would have changed it all. But nothing. There is nothing I could have done. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing. Because we were just a time bomb waiting to explode, And the fuse had already been lit. I could feel it coming Like a force of a thousand trains slamming into me. But I could do nothing. And as I flew through the air with the force of impact, I felt the memories rushing by. I reached for the good ones. The ones from before it all went wrong. And I find nothing. Sucked away into the darkness of a black hole, In the deep recesses of my mind. So far that I was afraid to reach for them. Afraid that they would come back and throw punches At my already broken and battered heart. I am stuck. Halfway in the black hole and halfway out. Where time is slow and life is torture. People say that a black hole is the best place to love someone. Because a second feels like a day and time passes so slow And that is why I believe that it is also the worst place to love someone. Endless time to obsess over every detail of every memory. Wanting to tear your hair out Because of everything you ever said that lit that fuse. Cringing at the things that make you who you are. And all the while knowing that there is nothing you can do to change it. Nothing. And the clock ticks, second by agonizing second. Anonymous

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Photo by Julie Hanash Twelfth Grade


A   Good Man, et al.

Photo by Bitsy Brandfield-Harvey Tenth Grade

Center stage is the firstborn king Who bears the battered crown. Let the church bells ring and the choirs sing While he walks the dark way down. The firstborn king is the only king Who shall heft that weight of gold. And yet death still flies on a fleeter wing And shall claim him ere he’s old. There’s a target on his back that the second-born king, With his bow, shall sight with care. For he, and the queen, and the other shall bring To the true king his lifeless stare. Jonathan Sload Twelfth Grade

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Ultimate Game The color of coffee Laces made out of leather Wonderful Game The crowd bursting with excitement Stadium as big as a lake Hear the pain Pads smashing Smell sweet smell Toasted burgers, buttered popcorn Listening to Catchy songs Quarterback throws ball Like spiral The football glides like a glider soaring in the air Players are pumped up Heck of a sport A sweaty rocket Football throw Book read

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Zade Shenaq Third Grade

Photo by Armish Narsi Twelfth Grade


Art by Connie Sun Second Grade

Art by Isabella Scionti Tenth Grade

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My Cat Simon Dark night, creepy Full moon, creepy Green glowing eyes, bright Black and white fur, soft Pointy ears, soft Sneaky as a fox Hiding in the covers My fuzzy teddy bear, soft To me a cat is to a rat, as bird is to worm Colors, dark

A Beautiful Creature The Creature Mysterious and invisible Tiptoes and whisks Silently Cat Isabelle de Jong Seventh Grade

Smell of my mom cooking dinner, yummy Sound of my cat meowing loudly Sharp teeth like a blade of white How Does he get his meowing sound I don’t know, do you? Taller than a football No claws in front Sharp claws in back Super cute Very old cat Nice cat, I say I pet him Dog jumps on bed Other dog jumps on bed We all get in the covers Mom yells my name I go down To eat dinner I love him My cat Simon Jordan Mayer-Brownfeld Third Grade

Photo by Zoey Willoughby Eighth Grade

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West and East

In a village, there lives a boy named West, a girl named East. Two of different sides, rarely meet nor see. West shines, radiates like the burning sun, with smiles so bright that it melts the horizontal span. And on the other side lays East quietly, gentle, caring, diligent and pure as the illuminating moonlight. Everyone loves West, and admires East. Then on a fateful morning, East opens her eyes, but feels a piece missing, that of passion, zeal and warmth. She then carefully peeks out and sees West shining near, but yet out of reach. And something new begins to spring deep down within. Day by day by the window she seeks of his glances, his postures, and the smiles upon his cheeks. Despite what people say, they are not meant to be. With two so different, how can it ever be? But still East’s courage brews gradually through time. Then on that day, she whispers to the sweet and lovely air, who carries her words with a gentle blowing breeze. The wind murmurs. West hears and turns to see. Then East shyly speaks, “Can we blend to become something unique?” Jessica Zhai Tenth Grade

Art by Holly Zambonini Tenth Grade

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Frida Khalo Sufro, Sufro, Sufro En mi cama de Agonía Con tubos de metal Y mi sangre Manchando las cobijas El dolor nunca Falta Como viejo enemigo, Me abraza con braz’s de Hielo Fuego Y Espinas Arranca mi corazón Y lo tira en el piso Color esperanza Manchando el piso, Ponlo ahí, cerca de mi hijo, Que ya no exista más, Como mi Sed de Vida. En el óleo de color Rojo, Dejo el mensaje para el que Ve Me lo mire, Y conozca el sufrimiento Que me hiere cada día. Margot Hasty Tenth Grade

Photo by Armish Narsi Twelfth Grade

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F

our years, three phases, two visions, one mind. She. Sister from another life. Though far away she’s never far behind. Understands the things unsaid, She’s never misled. Nothing makes her upset She, I will never forget. He. Highlight of my life. Although he made me cry, he never left my side. He always tried, someday to be known worldwide Loyal partner and friend, his story has no end. Them. With whom everything is possible. Little inspirations, moments of celebration Young hearts, all so wonderful All so true. They. Who gave reason to smile Who made the world Who always stayed Who made life worth living Without whom I’m incomplete. Four people, three feelings, two promises, And one everlasting memory.

Anonymous Twelfth Grade

Art by Hugo Sivov Tenth Grade

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Dear Friend Dear Friend, We’re friends. I know you at your best You’ve seen me at my worst. I’m myself with you I feel you’re different with me. You understand my vision of life I help you with yours. But something happened on the way, You went astray To follow her. Once the feelings came into play Art by Alexandra Lechin Twelfth Grade

There was nothing I could say. You’ve seen her at her best, She’ll overlook your worst. You’re different with her, She won’t be impressed. As you walk by, you’ll see a smile. As you wave bye, you’ll see me still. You’ll never see the truth, The heartache or the pain And the next day, Nothing has changed. Anonymous

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Photo by Charlotte Burnod Terminale Photo by Julie Hanash Twelfth Grade

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International Festival Winners!

Australia

Sydney Opera House

Have you ever visited a beautiful and peaceful land? Have you ever been to Australia? If you haven’t yet, it will be more than just a great souvenir for you. It will amaze you and make you want to go live there. Now, close your eyes and imagine the beautiful arid land and red rocks that contrast with rain forest. You see the Earth and the infinite ocean covered by corals at the Australia border. You are seeing an expanse of thin orange sand that slides under your feet, lizards, chameleons, and brown Kings slipping by you. In the middle of this amazing desert, you can see the huge red rock, the red heart of this land. You see how the aboriginal painting in Kakadu explain the creation and many more interesting stories of Australia. In a tiny forest, kangaroos are eating lazily, holding their kids in their baby pockets. The arid land is disappearing and you can hear the beautiful sound of the waterfall, like aboriginal melodies above the rain forest; palms and other tropical trees are over hanging the rivers and the expanses of grass where you can distinguish crocodiles waiting for prey, the platypus lounging in the grey water, and koalas with their babies on their backs climbing in the trees for food and comfort. Far away at the Australian coastline, you can have the best view of Sydney with his legendary opera and bridges. There is the best place to observe the pelicans, those wild birds with their big peaks to eat fishes. On the northern coast of the island, you see the Great Barrier Reef where millions of colorful fishes and turtles are swimming merrily into the beautiful corals. Now, just wake up and make your dream a memorable reality! Go and visit Australia!

Australia

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Joseph Abounohra 6ème

This house is not a house at all. Its snow-white sails stand big and tall. People around the world come to know Where they can see the greatest show. The singers sang a “La la la” And act their parts at the opera. The dancers dance a grand jete And they dance the night away. This house is not a house at all. Its snow white sails stand big and tall. Performers around the world come to see Who they really want to be. The actors act and play their role. They say their lines with lots of soul. The tourists give an “Ooh and aah! What a fun night at the Opera!” This house is not a house at all. Its snow-white sails stand big and tall. Sydney is known for these great walls. Just step into her great big halls.

Uluru

Emme Cutchall Sixth Grade

As we drove toward Esperance in Western Australia, I could not wait to see the lake that is supposed to be the color of pink bubblegum. My family and I had just flown over Lake Hillier, a pink-colored lake on the largest island off the coast of Esperance. This was the only way to view Lake Hillier and it was quite a spectacular sight, viewing it from the air. I could not believe that it was really pink!

Singing in silence Whispering stories to the wind You guard our legends.

We were therefore very excited that our guide was now driving us to another pink lake which we could see close up, Pink Lake near Esperance. We arrived in Esperance in the late afternoon and checked into the motel, from where we would set off to Pink Lake the following day.

The wind blows on your Rocky skin. Your presence gives life to the desert. You guard our homeland.

When we got to Pink Lake the next day, it was such a nice and bright day that the pink hue showed up extremely well. We were told that this might be due to the salt tolerant Dunalella Salina algae in the water, as well as the water temperature and salinity level. It was a magnificent scene to behold the Pink Lake against some of Australia’s most stunning coastal scenery.

You reflect the sun’s colors, Red and bold at the crack of dawn, Purple and discreet at nightfall, Changing colors but staying true to the past, You guard our ancestors.

There seemed a lot to do around Esperance like horse riding, cycling, fishing, scuba diving, whale watching, windsurfing, and kayaking. I did some cycling and fishing, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. Eucalyptus trees abound in the area and I was delighted just to be able to gaze at the captivating koalas. I now understand why the Australians enjoy their outdoor lifestyle so much. They are so blessed to have the best that nature offers, including the extraordinary pink lakes of Esperance! Yian Wong Seventh Grade

At last, your colors match the night. Your dark aspect blends into darkness. And through the symbols on your cracks and breaks You guard our history. Marie Juery 4ème

Uluru

You see this rock? No, not a rock. It’s more than that. It’s Uluru. The Anangu say it’s sacred, I believe it’s beautiful. See this pink sunset? Pretty, isn’t it? The clouds look like cotton candy. The sunset makes Uluru change color. One second it’s brown, The other it’s pink. Now it’s purple! And now it’s fading into the darkness Of the night, Letting the stars be Our new interest. Laetitia Guerin 6ème

Australia, a Haiku Poem Beasts in this desert Stay “Down Under” the hot soil To hide from the sun. They leave the darkness Only when the rain and floods come In order to eat But during most months, They stay hungry and hidden Below the harsh land. The Mount Uluru Not a mountain, but a rock, Gives the only shade. Creator unknown Not connected to the ground But sitting on top. Older than we know. It’s the subject of old tales Mentioned in old myths. Eleanor Grosvenor Eighth Grade

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Art by Hugo Sivov Tenth Grade

Art by Kyren Wong Twelfth Grade

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Art by Hugo Sivov Tenth Grade


Art by Sarah Haji First Grade

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Ramifications