Balboa Academy's SCALES - 8th Edition (July 2024)

by Isabella Rios

AnaPaolaHenne

& Camilo Perez-Triana

by JuliaChoi Physics by Krish Bhakta

by Leah Padmore

Opposites,

Emma’sCottageHousebyElisa

TheNewLifebyLucyNoh

KoibyMariaJoseGutierrez

FictionbyMauroVergati

Masthead

Editor in Chief

Spanish Editors

Emilie Mendoza ‘24

Francesca Calvosa ‘24

Daniela Chavarría Salas ‘25

English Editors

Gwendolyn Bethel ‘26

Sofia Fitzpatrick ‘26

Leah Padmore ‘26

Design Editors

Milan Cohen ‘25

Luciana Calvosa ‘26

Catherine Cook ‘26

Balboa Talks Officers:

Emilie Mendoza ‘24

Francesca Calvosa ‘24

Daniela Chavarría Salas ‘25

Editor's Note

This issue of Scales comes at the end of not only a rollercoaster of a year, but also my time at Balboa Talks. Throughout high school, I’ve witnessed B-Talks be transformed into a space for creatives at Balboa and our official chapter of the National English Honor Society. This change was a long time coming and is a representation of the care that all those who have been part of Balboa Talks through the years have put in to this space. I hope you enjoy this issue and all those that come after.

Your editor, Emilie

Mendoza

POETRY

ANA PAOLA HENNE ‘24

Numbers

We live a life determined by numbers

These many numbers mean you still read picture books

These many numbers mean you can learn how to drive

These many numbers mean you can be considered an adult

These many numbers mean you should have a stable job

These many numbers mean you should be thinking about baby names

But what if I reach the number and not the determined state?

Will my life crumble like a piece of paper?

Will society shun me for not meeting their expectations?

What do those numbers even say?

That 30 is the time I should be settling down?

That 17 is when my whole life should be figured out?

That 21 makes a good legal drinking age,

But at 16, I am trusted with the control of an object that can take a life?

Why do we let numbers dictate what we do?

Determine what we can or can’t do, Or what we should or shouldn’t be doing.

Numbers can be rounded up and down, negative or positive, improper fractions or decimals

Numbers can vary in a process, just like their many can vary So why do we let that one number determine where we are in life.

ISAAC WRIGHT MUELLER ‘24, KIYAAN SHAHANI ‘24, FELIPE HAECKER ‘24, CAMILO PEREZ-TRIANA ‘24

Moving On

There’s a beauty here, in moving on, A break in the action, a pause in the song, We see sprouts, once fresh under a morning sun, Now all too familiar as the evening comes

Atop one hill we proudly stand, Looking back on a distant land, With longing, with sadness, with a touch of regret, Knowing we shall never be there again

Then turn to face the setting sun, All contemplating how far we have come, The valleys we crossed, the bridges we built, The hundreds of instants we wanted to stay, And all those that chose to travel other ways.

We turn at last to the star of hope, Over an infinite range of treacherous peaks it shines Promising mystery and adventure, sadness and joy As we each find our way to our own unique slope.

There's a beauty here, as we move along, With a new chapter starting, plays an old sweet song. As memories pass, so does the time we have left We step to tomorrow, as we continue our descent.

As we recall the paths we’ve walked In each vivid memory, paths are crossed Using ambition as our signal, the adventure continues forth We all look to the future, as we venture north. 2

And twelve years past, see how far we’ve come

All the sweat and tears that finalize the sum

Dreamed just stand atop, this hill of triumph

Only to awake in a different realm

Was it a sensible world in my head?

Years spent in a race, for that checkered flag

Finding just the start to a new marathon

As the sun sets to the east and the west

The familiar smell floats through the morning air

In a world of unfamiliar faces

Propped there upon the usual wear

Living among strange ghosts with familiar blazes

Now it feels that the familiar clashes with the new, You see friends become old memories, As they fly North to a future of promise and revelries, And sinking when that future has left you

I know my course, It’s changed throughout And I hold some doubts

But I know myself, I’m driven by sheer force

And I look up and see That beyond a foggy trail, Still lies that same trail, And it will take me where I’m meant to be.

It is still so early, I’m sure there’s much more, I am, still, in my long life’s morning

And I know that after a night in which rain was pouring, The skies will be clear for me to find what I am looking for.

JULIA CHOI ‘25

Seeds

Some can handle the bitterness of a watermelon seed Others spit it out

You’re told you’d die from apple seeds

So you don’t have a doubt

A cherry pit has cyanide

A peach pit, a hardened shell

You wonder if it’ll grow inside you

Eventually, time will tell

Sunflower seeds are seen as snacks

I don’t know what that’s about

Chia seeds grow rapidly

Soon you’ll see a sprout

Which came first?

The seed or plant

The egg or the chicken

The anteater or the ant

What kind of seed do you have?

And how hard is it to chew?

Physics

To begin this journey we start with kinematics, Turned the whole class into fanatics, But vectors and scalars turned us into psychosomatics, Making my head hurt with all these new graphics

Walked into the land of motion, A tough problem would cause a whole lot of commotion, Made sure everything was in place to rectify any notion, Felt proud when I got the answer with a ton of emotion

Sliding into the ice with all that friction, Making me irate enough to watch my diction, Getting all that work done was a tough mission, But I eventually gave all those problems a crucifixion.

Every potential step I made filled with kinetic energy, Newton’s laws all inscribed in long-term memory, Ask me and I’ll still know them in a century, Looking back at all these questions with much serenity.

Finally, going to the shocking city of electricity, Making sure these cables are plugged or a referral is a possibility, Voltage is key is this world of powerful capability, Proving myself to have some innate ability.

Physics was an experience, Sometimes I felt delirious, Sometimes I felt oblivious, But after going through it all, I now feel impervious.

PADMORE ‘26

Missing, You?

Why is it now

More than ever

That I have you by my side

That it feels you’ve been gone forever

But what am I talking about

It’s been you and me

Together we are wild and free

We’ve seen each other grow

In this river of life we’ve flowed

So why do I miss you

You sit in front of me

You listen to me

But your not here with me

All I see is an unknown person before me

Oh my god I’m going crazy

You and I are supposed to be inseparable

You and me are unforgettable

There is nothing to tear us apart

You have a piece of my heart

So why do I miss you

Now you go out with other people

But trusting you to go out with me is a gamble with the devil

I still see you almost everyday

So why is it that every time it feel you are so so far away

Our conversation changed from our future to our present to our past

After we talk a feeling of sadness is all that lasts

You say that we are best friends

That there is nothing to amend

That its still the same friendship

You say we basically share kinship

So why is it that I miss you

MARIA JOSE GUTIERREZ ‘26, MONICA WILLIAMS ‘26, RHEA CHUGANI ‘26

Opposites, the Tales Tell

(OPPOSITES)

Opposites, were you and I

You were open, I was shy

Bonded by our endless love

Like a million signs from above

Met on a sunny day

She never stopped beaming

While he was unfazed

Him and her were not the same

When they first met, something changed

She was intrigued, and he was too

She was something he’d never seen

He was something she wanted to understand

The more they learned about each other

The closer they were brought

Together they were astonishing

This movie had an unexpected plot

(OPPOSITES)

The difference between salt and pepper

Is the reason why we’re perfect together

Our bond, just like sweet and sour

We fell more and more by the hour

Together they strolled in harmony

With their french fries and milkshakes

Sweet and salty, the best combination

So different alone, yet so powerful together

The polarity made them the match they were

A balance unattainable by identicals

Composed of perfect complements

Is why they were drawn together

Drawing the strings of their love

Strings, invisible to the human eye

They were linked by a strong force

Like a rapid-fire burning the ice

(OPPOSITES)

Learning our differences

Strengthened our connection

You made me change in all directions

Walking side by side, showing affection

More and more, we changed our perceptions

The time they spent with each other

Will always be time cherished

Never a moment of boredom

Always something new

They expressed their differences

Which they accepted and adored

Learning about each other

Could never leave them bored

Olives were his favorite food

She picked them out of every meal

He ate her olives, she was content

The olive theory, proven real

(OPPOSITES)

Black and white, the tale tells A Japanese philosophy Does it ring a bell?

Yin and Yang, like that we fell

We were under a love spell

Flaws of Time

Time is such a flawed concept. The lack of it, the ownership of it; it’s not like something like this could just be kept

How do you even know when you have time? Because with every line, with every tick tock of the ever-going clock, eternity stretches onward, and we must move forward.

And how does the sun rise, in a world most despise, in a world that keeps on spinning, from ending to beginning.

We dance to a tune, like puppets we swoon, as a broken record plays, a record that displays, something we call time

But how to measure an indefinite source? One that moves and moves with no remorse. Seconds, minutes, hours, years; spread on through cheers, through tears.

Rings of life, like a knife.

Memories showing, the way things have been growing. Flashing lights, passing sights

And when the sun goes down, wearing a crown, Kronos sits on his throne All alone, he asks no one in particular: What is time?

Reminders of You

You remind me of

Days on the orchard late, Warm summers on the lake

The sparks when a firework explodes, The flight of different birds, like crows.

The click and flash a camera makes, The smell of cookies as they bake.

A ruffling of a page, The adrenaline of performing on stage

The spraying of sea foam high, Periwinkle blue dripping from the sky.

Cotton candy dissolving on my tongue, Every note waiting to be strung.

Sunshine after rain, The system that connects us all; our veins

When you open a clam and a pearl hides inside, The way stars and constellations shine with pride.

Sweet pollen in a flower, The warmth in my soul from talking for hours.

The simplicity of mortality, The possibility of eternity

FICTION

Houses in Motion

On the days leading up to his death, Gael began noticing changes. This definitely wasn’t the first time that he had felt this way physically As a matter of fact, he had been feeling this insatiable feeling of irritation in his heart for months now. He couldn’t quite place where the feeling had come from No visible marks signified anything out of the ordinary, but the persistent crawling feeling felt so tangible that it felt as if it could be plucked out of his chest if it was only in reach. Gael was an extremely pale man, so thin that others often reported him disappearing within the blink of an eye, only to reappear within the next. A rather reclusive person, he would spend long hours sitting in his room, waiting for something to guide him through the emptiness of his life. One day, the feeling in his heart worsened considerably He decided to call off work for the day. What he didn’t know at the time was that he would never leave his house again.

Gael’s worsening condition came with other concerning side effects, the first of which was incessant paranoia. Waking up, he would check the walls of his house, assuring himself over and over again that no one was

watching him through any hidden devices. These assurances were ultimately useless. His only solution was to cover up all of his house’s windows, power off all of his devices permanently, and keep a loaded handgun on his nightstand in case of any intruders. His lifelong dependence on technology and sunlight for timekeeping made their sudden absence massively debilitating. Hours began to melt together in his mind, which completely stripped him of his ability to follow his daily routine. Gael didn’t seem to care, however. He knew that these drastic measures were all in the name of keeping him isolated and safe from the outside world’s prying eyes. What was much less justifiable was the mirror.

One day, Gael woke up and walked to his bathroom to wash his face After drying his face with a hand towel, he noticed something curious. In his mirror’s projected view of his bedroom beyond his open bathroom door, there appeared to be sunlight coming in through the windows. This seemed so foreign to his now enclosed mind that it seemed as though there were brilliant, shining waves flooding into his bedroom. He stared at the mirror,

entranced by the strange asymmetry of the reflection. He was so focused on this dreamlike image that he didn’t realize that he was completely absent from the mirror’s reflection His focus was only broken when he appeared on the edge of the mirror, except he wasn’t being reflected. A seemingly cheerier, healthier version of him looked back at him with a mix of curiosity and disgust. Suddenly, the world around him seemed darker, more hostile. He ran out of the bathroom and shut the door This new mutation of his reality scared him beyond belief. That strange doppelganger was definitely not there before he shut himself in. This, however, did not dissuade him at all from continuing his isolation. He let his breathing calm down and instead wondered aloud what those golden waves were After successfully achieving his complete isolation from the outside world, Gael began having strange dreams If he had managed to get some semblance of sleep despite his irritating prison, he would be transported to a new, spectral realm. It wasn’t unlike his own neighborhood, but there was something odd about it that became almost immediately apparent to him following his entrance into the dream world. He sat motionless at the end of his street and watched as an otherworldly spectacle occurred before his eyes. All the

houses in his neighborhood would begin slowly rolling away from him. What was curious about this was that this movement was completely silent. Instead of seeming like loud, crashing giants, these houses felt like superlunary ghosts who would float away from Gael as if he was a repulsive force. Every time he fell asleep, Gael would revisit this same dream, and would wait for what felt like hours until every house in his neighborhood was devoured by the horizon and the stagnancy of the situation before his eyes coupled with a lack of other sensory stimuli made him feel as if his existence was null and void.

What ultimately made Gael tear away at his own sanity were the bugs. Before his isolation, to his knowledge, his house was nearly completely free of bugs He saw an occasional house fly, but nothing much more than that Once he locked himself in, he began seeing bugs at an increasingly distressing rate. This became such an issue that he became obsessed with ridding his house of all the bugs within it. He felt a sense of destructive determination which was ultimately fruitless. One day, he spent several hours chasing down a cockroach, waiting for it to appear from underneath pieces of furniture. The problem came with what he interpreted as nature itself mocking him. Whenever he killed a bug,

another one would quickly appear This gave him such a palpable sense of anxiety that he could barely rest, feeling as though there were bugs in his bed and that they were crawling all around his body This is what finally broke him. Upon seeing a long line of ants crawling across one edge of his room, Gael took an axe he stored in his garage and used it to break apart the walls of his house, all in search of those terrible creatures. By the end of this long process, despite not finding a single insect, his house seemed as if the very Earth had shaken to its core, causing cataclysmic damage. All his furniture was tossed around his house and torn apart as if it had been torn to pieces by a savage animal The very foundation of his house was starting to crumble, but his house managed to stay up by some miraculous force. At one point he created a hole so deep into his wall that it briefly let a ray of sunshine crash into his living room, blinding him and requiring him to sit down for several minutes while he stopped seeing flashing colors

He did not get a single second of sleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed waiting to see if he would, by some miracle, find some rest Instead, he saw something that he had never seen before. Staring up from his bed, he saw several specters engaged in a sort of slow dance on his ceiling They didn’t seem to notice him at all, perhaps not even knowing that they

were in his house or on his ceiling to begin with. At this moment, everything came crashing back to him at once. He was reminded of everything he’d ever done, all the people he’d ever hurt, and every reason why no one would come to save him. The feeling in his heart changed. Instead of an itch that was impossible to quell, Gael felt as if his heart was welling up in tears He understood one thing without a shadow of a doubt in his mind. That night was to be his last night in this world of perpetual devastation Perhaps it was to be a little brighter without the stain of him in it. He watched the ghostly fog of the specters slowly fade away, and immediately got up With an inhuman sense of assurance and determination, he went downstairs to his garage and picked up a gasoline tank he had left there in case of emergency Before long, the house was doused in gasoline, down to the foundations on which it stood. Everything was covered, except for his bedroom. Gael thought about everything once more, and with all the confidence of the universe, he dropped the match that was to erase everything about him from the face of the earth. Before succumbing to the flames, he reentered his bedroom, and with a rising numbness that was only becoming more intense and slowly enveloping all of his senses, he grabbed the loaded handgun he always kept on his bedside table and

shot himself directly through his heart, knowing for sure that, if anything, he would be seen on the news and then never again. While Gael’s corpse lay lifeless, awaiting its inevitable incineration, its inside was determined to achieve peace. Slowly, a long line of ants exited his body through the bullet hole that pierced his heart. In perfect order, these ants picked up Gael’s body and carried it out through his now missing home and deposited it on the sidewalk in front of where his house used to be Once done, the ants reentered his corpse and carried out a tiny glowing mass, which seemed to evaporate in the night air and rise into the sky, merging with the stars and disappearing from the earth

Gael’s house was completely destroyed before anyone could notice its fierce incineration What was perhaps most curious about the event was that no one heard or saw any of the destruction taking place. Many even claimed that there never existed a house there in the first place The one constant among all of the potential witnesses of the disaster was that they all claimed that the house had never been inhabited. Gael’s corpse was also not autopsied until several days after he had died. It seemed as though his body was immune to any sort of typical decomposition His corpse had seemed so insignificant and unknown to his neighborhood that none of them

drew any attention to it, viewing it as if it was part of the environment. It was only until someone who lived far away outside the neighborhood saw it and reported it with a complete lack of alarm or shock When the autopsy was performed, the only true sort of decomposition to his body had occurred to his face, which seemed as though it was unrecognizable and unattributable to any other human who had ever lived. The autopsy concluded that his internal organs had been run by a colony of ants, and that they performed most of the processes needed to keep him alive. The report ended with a simple sentence.

“It is highly likely that the patient has always been like this.”

It Was Just a Pomegranate: Kore

Blessed child, my daughter, my love

My first memories consist of endless fields, flowers blooming alongside my every step, bugs dispersing as I went, and flying off to find a new place to nestle, though I know they did not fault me, as I was loved by all things alive. My grandmother came alive beneath my feet, swaying reeds by the riverside, the whistle and moan of the wind on stormy nights, the creak and groans of the trees, the grassy knolls that swayed in the gentle summer breeze; I was loved, and I was blessed Blooms appeared in my wake, the gentle yet chilly breeze walked alongside me, grass bloomed amongst the melting frost, and granted me birth as I walked along The land coated with a blanket of warmth and joviality wherever I went, I was love, akin to my aunt, yet for the earth, I loved her, and she adored me, as did my mother Oh, Mother Mother mine, so dear to me, so loving, so giving, she was one of the most joyous goddesses I had ever met, bringing prosperity with her wherever she deemed to go,

similar to me, just with grain and growth and fertility Once she described my birth as her heart being tugged from her chest, and given legs and arms, suddenly walking and breathing, smiling and laughing Though that was long ago, ere I dwelled below the earth for six months at a time, tortuous, arduous, dark and glum months; there are no blooms here, no life, no beauty; only death, and him.

At the beginning, I had not known what pain, nor suffering was, I would not know the word even if I were told its meaning; I could not comprehend such emotions. Oh, how I wish it remained so. Mother was protective, though never smothering, never to me I was her treasure, and she vowed never to lose me to the cruelties of the world; if only she had understood that in our family, such a promise is folly My cruel and unfeeling uncle, as I recall him, the one that I had never quite seen, dwelled amongst the stars; far above in Olympus. He, in all his aloof ignorance, permitted the union

of myself and my unfeeling husband, stated it outright; however, he withheld such information from his dear sister, my mother, whom he had never much cared for from my understanding He had not the decency to inform her of his allowing for her most precious treasure, to be married off to the brute, ruler of the underworld The one that had lost long ago the draw long ago, from trident, to lightning bolt, to helm. The sea, the heavens, and the underworld. I can not stand to even summon up the word, my damnation for being naïve and young, and falling to his soft and manipulative vices and cursing myself and the world for eternity.

Kore, maiden, it is what they called me. The nymphs, mother, it was my name, it was all I was ever meant to be A maiden, innocent and pure, to frolic in fields of beautiful and aromatic flowers, to bring forth joy and tenderness wherever I treaded; he stole that from me. Stole me away from her, mother, the nymphs, my family, my felicity, my home. Deflowered and beaten, blooms no longer appear where I now lay, grass does not grow, the gentle breeze does not blow, nothing grows in this desolate and barren wasteland far beneath the earth; all that exists here is misery and woe, and my dearest husband Even when I return above it is no longer the same, the joy is shadowed by him, his existence trails

my ever step, the flowers seem dim and distant, the satyr's hymns muted and far away, the nymphs twirls and swoops blurring into one massive blur of blues and greens and whites; how I yearn for the freedom from his grasp, of which I cannot seem to escape from. He trails on even in my memories, he has ruined me.

Six pomegranate seeds, rodi. Six. Starved and desperate, in this new and strange land, he trapped me, as eating food from this land is a curse in itself; and inextricably binding Meanwhile, above on the sweet fields I has left behind, my mother lost her mind. She tore root from trunk and leaf from branch in her wrath, informed by the sun, Helios, that I had been taken as he had witnessed the entire incident from far above, in his divine chariot. She wept and mourned me, leaving all bare in her wake Eventually, her ire turned to dejection, to an irrevocable sadness, and she ceased all life and growth, creating the seasons of autumn, and winter The people began to call her wicked, and I soon became to be known as Persephone, “Bringer of Death,” for when I was gone far below, mother refused to allow life and all turned frigid and unfeeling, a monotonous landscape of pale blues, whites, and deep grey’s. He cared not though, my husband, Hades. He called me his queen, allowed me to rule alongside him. Though I turned cold over time,

scathing, bitter; and his eyes trailed elsewhere There were two, yet I remember one the best, Minthe, the first. Upon discovering this treachery, my woe turned to rage, to claim me and trap me in this misery, to then find a new plaything; it was unacceptable. There was little left of her, I fear, all that was left was a little plant that the mortals call, “Mint ” The second was Leuce, I did not touch her as she kept him away from me for a great long while, I did not care much for her I also had no anger remaining in my heart, simply hollow aches for the past and the ardent desire to return to the overworld. Where I belong, where I yearn to be, the only place where this dull ache can be placated, mollified, though never remedied He stripped a blossom from its motherland and expected it to flourish, to then be surprised as it withered.

Emma’s Cottage House

Emma had recently graduated from college, in fact, one was the best colleges in the world. She had gotten a diploma from NYU as a finance major, and she was proud to maintain a 4.0 GPA over her 4 years of college. However, the past following months after graduation were different from what she had expected She had sent countless job applications, and this repeated, reckless steps of attaching a resume and motivational letter, and talking in the interview if lucky, made her wonder about all those sugarcoated words regarding her college. What do you mean that NYU is a highway to success in your future? Was their definition of success somewhat different? Had she missed out on internships and extracurricular activities that all her friends have done secretly? What was Emma supposed to do now, who was left without a job but thousands of dollars of student loans to pay? As her mind started to get preoccupied with those worried thoughts, Emma received a call from an unknown number.

The details from the call made Emma wonder if this was a dream She was given a job offer from an insurance company in Oregon. The only

downside of it was that she had to move to a completely new state, very far and different from New York, but these kinds of things did not matter to her now. As long as she was offered a job, Emma was ready to take it, regardless of what it would take her. This was about to be a whole new chapter of Emma’s life Everything from that on seemed to be flowing smoothly, without causing her a hassle. Her current landlord did not require any extra charges for terminating her contract in the middle of it, but instead congratulated her when Emma told the landlord about why she had to move out. Getting a house in Oregon was easy too There was a house that was out for rent for only 300 dollars per month, which was nearly half of the usual rent cost in the area

Despite moving to a completely new side of the country that Emma had never experienced, she was excited to pursue her Pinterest dream life, in a cute cottage house, with high grasses, flowers everywhere, and fruit and vegetable gardens in her backyard. The house came with a decent-sized backyard and four garden beds, which was more than enough for Emma, who

was just getting into gardening As soon as she moved to her new house in Oregon, she went to a gardening shop and bought various tools and seeds to get started She waited a few days for the right weather, and when the vibrant rays of sunshine woke her up on a fine Tuesday morning, Emma decided that today was the day. Thanks to the previous tenant’s gardening work, there wasn’t that much work that had to be done. She lightly plowed the dirt and placed different types of vegetables, fruits, and flower seeds that she bought last week, then thoroughly watered the soil.

All of Emma’s plants seemed to be thriving for the first couple of days. Emma was glad to see all the cute little sprouts poking their head out of the soil and thought to herself that she must have a green thumb All her seeds would sprout and start growing, but none could make it out of the seedling phase. Was she watering her garden too often? Was it not fertilized enough? She started researching gardening communities in hopes of finding a solution to her garden. According to various experts and experienced gardeners, one of the most common reasons for hindered crop growth was the soil. So, Emma stepped outside to her garden and carefully examined her soil The soil was fairly warm, which indicated good active microorganisms inside, but

there was some odd smell, and the color was a bit darker red than the typical brown color of the soil. Renovating her garden with new soil seemed to be an appropriate solution for this issue, so that afternoon, Emma went to Home Depot and bought gallons of gardening soil.

Emma laid out a huge sack where she would put the old dirt into it, and just like the first day she started gardening, she put on her boots, hat, and gloves and started working She started from the top of her garden bed and was trying to dig as deep as possible to get rid of every bit of dirt that might have been hindering her crop growth But for some reason, it was unreasonably hard to dig deeper than 3 inches or so, even though she was far from reaching the bottom of the garden bed Eager to make her garden perfect this time, she struck the shovel deep into the soil. At that moment, her shovel made a scraping sound against something underneath. She carefully dug the areas around to reveal it. It was something white and hard, which she first assumed it was a big rock, but as she dug around it, it was quite bigger than what a usual rock would be What could this be? She tried to pull out the white, big, solid piece underneath the soil to examine it better. Then, when she got a fine sight of it, her brain immediately recognized what this might be. With her abnormally beating heart, she

rubbed her eyes to make sure she saw it right She indeed did It was a bone Not some leftover chicken bones that someone had thrown into their backyard, but a skull, quite large enough to be a person’s skull. Emma’s heart was beating even faster, her hands started shaking with fear, and her eyes started to fill up with tears Why was there a whole human skull in her garden?

Emma thought about calling the police to help further examine this matter, but what if the police found Emma suspicious? Her hands shaking with both curiosity and fear, Emma continued digging. In the end, she refused to believe the unbelievable scene in her backyard There was a whole human corpse buried in it, all 206 bones in order. Emma's mind was about to black out as she panicked. She suddenly felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. Yes, there was a whole dead body in her backyard but, how would she know that this body isn't the only one? How does she know why and who did this? Will Emma be the next one, lying down in these garden beds?

The New Life

In a country torn apart by the civil war, there lived a boy named Malik. He spent his days in chaos, where the streets echoed with the thunderous footsteps of the army, the heartdropping sounds of the gun, and the wails of grieving mothers. Malik, with his youthful thoughts, always dreamed of a life beyond the suffocating war

Each night, under the dim flicker of a candle, Malik would grab anything he could find near him, sketching out his dreams of a normal day after the war ended. He drew open fields with flowers under the gentle sun, kids running around laughing with each other, and a clear sky adorned with stars instead of smoke. As the day passed, Malik’s wish to escape grew stronger, fueled by his grief over the loss of his dearest people, including his parents He longed for peace, a sanctuary where he and others could enjoy their normal lives.

It was one morning, the sun timidly peeking over the horizon, when Malik made a vow to himself. With determination burning in his chest like a flame refusing to be extinguished, he set out on a journey to find refuge from the war. Through desolate paths

and across the fields, Malik navigated the scarred landscape of his homeland. His spirit remained undeterred despite the hunger, thirst, tiredness, and challenges that he faced. Along the way, he encountered fellow wanderers, each bearing their own scars of the conflict yet united by a shared desire for peace They accompanied each other through the journey and through the dark nights. They became closer and closer soon, resembling a family

Finally, after going through all the hardships they faced before and during the journey, they could see a sanctuary nestled amidst the mountains. The atmosphere was just perfect. Surrounded by the sound of nature, shifting winds, and, most importantly, out of war Here, in this untouched haven, Malik started a new beginning. As the sun dipped below the horizon, with the sky filled with red and gold, Malik stood atop a hill where he could see his newfound sanctuary With tears of gratitude in his eyes, he whispered a silent prayer for those still trapped in the war and for those who had already left the world during the war

“So that’s how I escaped from the war ” Malik was now an eighty-two-year-old man who sat in a park all day long, talking to people coming by. He told his life stories to little kids who came along just before the sun started disappearing below the horizon. Although this was the only story that the kids were told, they always asked him again and again Malik himself loved sharing his stories too, reminding him of the new family created during the journey, the challenges they faced along the way, and the relief after reaching his goal.

Koi

With its gills palpitating and small fins swaying through the water, the small yet majestic creature glided along the stream without a single worry in its mind. The man's gaze was fixed upon the slightly orange scales of the fish's skin. He had seen this specific Koi before and had appreciated its beauty every day after work; the long hours at the fish market had enlarged his knowledge of the anatomy of this critter. The two pairs of fins differentiated this species from the fish he sold, it made it special.

The young man’s preferred method of passing time in his hometown, Suzhou, was dedicating long moments of admiration for this animal. His mother had named him after her favorite Koi species, Doitsu. Through long hours of deep contemplations within this small pond, he found the serene beauty within the natural habitat of this minute being.

Although times had always been peaceful in the small pond amidst the coast of China, turbulence reigned over his parade one peculiar morning. As he woke up to check on the bank of fish, he noticed that one had been immobile for a while. The poor lone koi

fish was stationed at the bottom of the pond, leaving an ambiguous health condition. As he leaned closer into the steady waters, he felt the urge to jump in and rescue the small animal.

With his heart pounding in determination to save the fish, Doitsu waded through the water until he reached the bottom of the pond. He had never realized how deep it was.

Amidst the cool embrace of the natural pool, he remembered everything he would have to do when he went to work that day. His thoughts centered on the tedious obligations of cleaning his fish stand and directing the new workers he hired the week before. Ignoring these stressful reflections, he reached out to scoop up the struggling fish Yet as he grabbed the dying creature, he felt a sudden sensation of intense disorientation. It was as if he had lost all consciousness within the time he had spent inside the pond. Desperate to reach safety, Daotsi staggered through the water, each step more harrowing than the last. Curiously, the weight of the fish in his arms pulled him down, dragging him down to the depths of the pond

His vision had completely dimmed, and his lungs starved for air He clung to the fading image of the koi fish, its scales glimmering in the glint of sunlight. He appreciated the joyous afternoons it had provided. With a last, desperate gasp, Daotsi succumbed to the calm embrace of the water. As the ripples smoothed over the surface, the town mourned the loss of a man who had given his life to a single, insignificant, Koi fish

MAURO VERGATI ‘26

Fiction

“It was never your fault…” an empty statement said much too late. In front of him, the receiving end, already met its mortality Grey skies loomed over the scenery. A sense of guilt overcame the lone father accompanying his son’s grave. In between overgrown blades of grass read “Nikolas Johnson”. He knelt, soaking his black pants in the morning dew as he carefully arranged an assortment of red and white roses. Planting them between the wildflowers which swallowed the grave Desperation came to him as he hastily removed the overgrown weeds. Specs of dirt and grass now stuck to his blazer as he regretfully stared at the mess he just created Making matters worse, it reminded him of the tragedy which occurred 2 years ago. He stood up, tears slid down his cheeks and as with a sudden realization grimly said, “It was never your fault, it was mine ”

Even before Nikolas had been born, his life was already mapped out for him. His father, a mediocre F1 pilot set out to embed his dream in his son. Nikola’s mother, was absent throughout his upbringing, increasing his father influence as his only parental figure His father, by nature

was already an incredibly frustrated man, he was frustrated at himself for not achieving his goal and was driven to abuse his son just for a glimpse of success.

It was on his 3 birthdays that Nikola received his first vehicle, a used Kart haphazardly assembled and barely functioning. The Kart for such a young child was exhilarating, this was the time where he created a bond with driving, but more importantly Nikola was able to see his father’s cheerful glee each time he lapped around a makeshift racetrack without knocking any of the cones down. This would be the healthiest point in their father-son relationship. Nikola’s first race had a lackluster result, his inexperience and underwhelming kart had left him in last place Nikola’s greatest motivator after this race was his father’s acceptance, the same he felt when he was a young child.

“Don’t make any excuses, it was your fault.” This phrase accompanied any defeat in his young career. Nikolas was indoctrinated to desire his dad’s dreams He was homeschooled, it was deemed to be a waste of time Instead, he would spend his day learning about

cars Memorizing the apexes of each track. Learning the specification of each vehicle. Training to withstand the G forces endured during professional races

When he was 17 years old in his first year in Formula 1, he was signed by Ferrari. His father, however, was not contempt with his prodigy Every race, he would intervene, criticize his son’s ability reminding “A mistake, it’s always your fault.” Nikolas endured, distracted by the fame and the fancy hotels He was happy, at least by his definition, which was to be accepted by his father.

20 of the best drivers lined up on a rainy morning as the Interlagos Grand Prix is about to begin. Nikolas was ranked second out of those 20. However, it was not enough, and he was reminded of this Laps fly by as he can maintain second place. He was stuck, the car front wing was damaged. A fire around 500 meters ahead of him broke out He was first, yet the fire came from one of the drivers who crashed and partially blocked part of the track. He slowed down, to avoid the incoming flame. His father, somehow, managed to connect to the team radio. He did not like the cautionary approach. He demanded to increase his speed to maintain his privileged position at first They argued back and forth, Nikolas fighting for his safety. Just as before,

however, he was manipulated He increased his speed. Too fast. The fiery obstacle in front of him brought panic to the driver. He swerved away. His rear tire was stolen by the fiery mess, despite his maneuver He couldn’t control the car. It was too late; Nikola knew that it was going to be his end. He braced for the impact while accepting his defeat He blamed himself and his father did too. When his body was recovered, his father could still be heard ranting about his useless son on the radio He was mistaken however, it wasn’t his son’s fault it was his.

Short Text

I sit as my grandmother gently combs my hair, as I read to her for the first time. Behind me she is gently smiling every time I make up a word The laughter in the other room shifts my focus, and I begin to measure. I smile and I continue, even though the words look blurry, and I cannot understand their meaning yet, my heart feels soft, and it mustn’t end, and so I read. I read eternally.

I sit in the car and read, the reminiscing of the departure so acid it burns my insides, the destination so tasteless it numbs my limbs. So I begin to measure. I measure the moment. I measure to see how much strength it will take to become compressed, but sometimes I measure how far the moment will stretch. How far it is from my reach, and how long it will allow me to manipulate it, until it is completely mangled, and has sucked every ounce of energy from my body. This moment, painful and resilient. I beg for its end, and so I read I read until the pages begin to crumble, and the words begin to blur together, and I no longer feel so helpless. A moment so calm I could stay in it forever

I lay in the hammock, a repetitive motion, so familiar, and of course, the moment is measured. I read. I read out of desperation, for a moment that holds the power to determine my entire life. I read until my head begins to ache and there are pins pinching my eyes. I read out of passion and determination, for a moment that feels immortal.

I lay alone, my mind too quiet, my thoughts too empty A time where a blank page could seem so confusing. I must measure. A poem about yellow flours and the sweet wind that sways them, a poem about the importance of change, and the fading light of the sun About the beauty that lies within a book with cracked frames and brown wrinkled pages. I sit and read eternally, over and over until the words blur together and I can no longer understand their incandescent meaning.

I read because I must Over and over and over, to run from the moment, and to keep it. To learn and to forget, to be present and to escape. Because when the words begin to blur together, I feel my heart soften, and I no longer feel the need to measure.

For the Better

“A challenge awaits you in the near future”, the fortune cookie slip read. She stared at it for a minute before crumpling it up and shoving it into her bag. She didn’t have time to focus on future inquiries that she had yet to face. Picking up the fortune cookie from the table, she broke it into pieces and fed it to the birds on the sidewalk Carbohydrates, simple sugars, were what her coaches referred to as “empty calories”. They wouldn’t nourish her for the huge competition she had ahead.

The seventeen-year-old Argentinian elite gymnast, Natalia Torres, took her sport quite seriously She had been in gymnastics since she was two years old, and after a long journey alongside the sport, she accomplished qualification into the Pan-American games She had been training for the competition for a series of months, and over the course of this time, it had taken over her life. She rarely hung out with her friends, her grades had dropped from excellent to mediocre, and her diet was stricter than ever. On the contrary, she trained for thirty hours weekly, and it reflected enormously on her performance She and all those around her knew that

she had never been better.

The night before she traveled, she looked at herself in the mirror and made a promise with her reflection that this competition would reflect all the hard work she had put in. Her bag was already fully packed and had been that way for the past week Her clothes were prepared, her alarm was set, and she was ready to sleep. Although, that was the issue. She couldn’t. Not with all the voices in her head or the tingling feeling that she wished would disappear. Too much was at stake, too much could change. This was her key to an even greater competitive world. The unstoppable flow of thoughts in her head was so chaotic that without her noticing, she had fallen asleep.

Landing in Peru, she inhaled the fresh, crisp air and admired the beauty of the country she would be staying in for the week ahead. The environment swept away any nerves that had built up within her, and she felt free The landscape was among the most beautiful she had seen. The beautiful greenery, in perfect contrast with the blue sky, and he most gorgeous marshmallow clouds Besides the

natural landscape, the architecture was beautifully designed, and she couldn’t believe that among those buildings was the hotel she would be staying at

Although, it was time to focus. She checked into her hotel room and was greeted by some of the other teams’ coaches They gave her the directions she had to follow in order to get to the gymnasium that she would be competing in. She got dressed and started walking over there It was a five-minute walk, and she was astounded by the sight of the gym. It was bigger than she had ever imagined. Entering, she identified each apparatus: bars, beam, vault, and floor. Gymnasts were scattered across the stadium, flipping, twisting, spinning, it was an extraordinary sight.

This motivated Natalia to start warming up. She stretched and practiced prep drills before practicing her routines. She started on bars, then progressed to beam, followed by vault, and last floor. Her routines were looking spectacular, so much so that she caught other gymnasts staring at her, mesmerized. These gymnasts became her friends with whom she walked back to the hotel with. Even though they knew they’d be competing against each other, they couldn’t help admiring each other’s skill and talent, so they grew close.

The competition would take place the following night. Natalia went to sleep early, to achieve good rest and recovery from the training earlier in the day She wanted to be energized for the day she had ahead Natalia was ready to win.

When she woke up, she checked her phone and saw texts from her parents wishing her the best of luck even though “she wouldn’t need it”. She felt a rush of confidence after being reassured by her practices the day before Although she was nervous because she realized that she had competition which could challenge her path to victory. For breakfast she met up with her fellow gymnast friends and an egg white scramble was prepared for them. A high protein breakfast, perfect for competition day. Since they were so nervous, they didn’t have much of an appetite, but managed to finish their portions anyway. Together, the gymnasts walked over to the gymnasium for a pre-warmup and one final practice before the competition Natalia wanted to store as much energy possible for the night, so she would only be warming up and watching the other gymnasts practice. She didn’t want to discourage herself and lower her confidence after her previous practice.

Sooner than they expected, it was time for the final competition warm up. All the gymnasts that would be

competing across a variety of levels gathered onto the main floor for a final group warm up. They began with stretches, progressing into leaps, turns, and finally tumbling To Natalia, there was no feeling quite like the feeling of competing. It was exhilarating, nerve-wracking, and beyond everything, so much fun.

Natalia’s nerves began to build up once again as the gymnasts were being divided into rotations. She was informed that she would be starting on vault That was okay for her, being the element that passed by the quickest. She reminded herself that all her work led up to this point and she was ready to win They had one vault warmup round; she watched the girls she would be competing against execute flawless routines. It was then time for her warmup, every step she took, was a step of greater confidence She reached the vault executed her routine and landed standing, with a singular step out. Before the competition round, she inhaled, exhaled, accommodated into preparation position, waiting for the judges to raise the green flag. It was over within a nanosecond, the next thing she heard were roaring cheers from the crowd, she had stuck the landing. Looking over at the score board there was a 9.875 marked next to her name, putting her in 1st place An excellent score, but was it good enough to win it all?

The following apparatuses were bars and floor, each of which she executed smoothly. She scored a 9.6 on bars and 9.7 on floor. Overall, she was in second place, behind by 0 3 points She still had a chance to make it to 1st place. It all depended on her next rotation, beam. This was her favorite apparatus; she had grown up a “beam queen” and remained so to that day The judges raised the green flag and the scoring commenced as her hands touched the beam. She performed turns, leaps, and skills to perfection and was on the way to a perfect ten The last part of her routine, the final element of her dismount was a full twist. She approached the skill from a roundoff and then it felt as if she had been absorbed into the skill, but when she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the gymnasium.

She woke up in a room with white walls, and people slowly flooded in. She was in a state of complete confusion and distress. What happened? Did she stick it? Did she win? Where were the scoreboards? There was no simple or easy way to answer any of her questions. A woman dressed in light blue clothing approached her, within seconds she figured out that this woman was a doctor. The doctor informed her that she was currently in a hospital in Peru and was brought in by the paramedics from the competition gymnasium. She was told that when she landed her

beam dismount, one of her legs had completely twisted and she had torn her anterior cruciate ligament, or ACL. Seconds later she fell backwards, her head hit the hard mat, and she passed out Natalia was speechless Even after everything happened, she still wanted to know how the competition ended, but she couldn’t manage to say the words Looking up, she saw her parents who had flown in to take care of her. They knew how much she had wanted to win, and she didn’t even need to ask before they told her, that even after her fall, she had managed to achieve 2nd place. She was disappointed and wanted to be alone to grieve, but she knew better than that She opened her purse and searched for her phone to call her friends from home, but before she could get to it, she found a slip of paper “A challenge awaits you in the near future”, it read This, was not in the slightest, the challenge she had anticipated, it was much worse.

If she wanted to continue excelling in gymnastics, she needed to figure out how to get past this injury. Could she even walk? Surely it couldn’t be that serious, but no, she realized that it was when she collapsed straight onto the floor. The doctors helped her up and explained to her that it wouldn’t be an easy injury to recover from and would take at least a year before she could begin rebuilding strength and practicing skills. In that moment,

Natalia wanted to break down and die Gymnastics was her dream; it had become her life. This information was unbelievable and completely unreal to her

It took a while to sink in, but within a few months Natalia was already getting better. She had processed the fact that if she went back to gymnastics, it would take everything in her to get back to the level she was at. Slowly, she began to ponder if she had anything more to give, if she wanted to take anymore risks She knew that going back to gymnastics would mean that, she would be more vulnerable to injuries, after tearing her ACL. There was high probability that she’d have to start from zero again. In the months of recovery, she slowly detached herself from the absorption she was experiencing into the sport and the extreme power it had over her She knew that a huge part of her was gymnastics, but it wasn’t all of her. Possibility awaited her in all directions. She could redirect her life in a new direction and go to college and get a degree, while maybe even doing gymnastics sporadically. It was a part of her she knew she couldn’t let go. It didn’t work like that for her, it wasn’t easy when she had been working toward that goal her whole life.

Although she realized that she would never be able to fully detach from the

sport and its hold on her heart, it didn’t have to be her only focus in life She would always know gymnastics as a beautiful, captivating, perfectly balanced sport. Though she now understood through her own experience, how it could take over her life. The sport taught her so many things and made her the person she became, but it was time to loosen the tie it had on her Natalia Torres was once an extraordinary gymnast, and part of her would always be one. She reminded herself, one last time, that it was for the better.

Keep Going

She continued along the forest path, feeling cold and wet, her body drained of energy and fatigue clouding her mind Deep within the heart of the forest, enclosed by the whispering leaves and the gnarly branches reaching for her, a lone girl dragged herself forward on the winding trail. Her breath visible in the chilly air, and her clothes damp from the drizzle that would not stop.

Despite her bones cold to the core and weariness buckling down on her, she continues. There is only one way out of here going back is not an option, there is nothing to go back to. The girl can push on or stand still, but she cannot turn back. She has been walking for such a long time that the soles of her shoes are worn, her hair sticks to her forehead, and her heart breaks with each step Keep going, the wind whistled, urging her on. There is only one way out of here, and she refused to stay forever.

Her resilience carried her on, forcing her to never look back. The forest was against her. With trees suddenly growing in her way, she would have to step around them The rain would pour harder in certain parts of her

journey. The terrain would become bumpier. If there was a river in her way, there would never be a bridge to help her cross The leaves would blow into her face and the sound of frightening animals would follow her. It seemed the farther she went in, the worse it all got for her. Keep going, that voice would implore

Occasionally, she would find the bones of someone who could not keep going through this terrible forest Terrifying thoughts would slip into her mind and make her knees weak. She kept going, there was only one way out of here. She would not be a victim of this forest, she refused

The girl thought of the events that brought her here to these circumstances, that forced her to go through this alone It made her mad, so unbelievably mad. Keep going, so she did. Hiking on, she pushed all bad thoughts out and focused on what she would be like once she was done, once she survived this. Despite the cold and the rain, she smiled.

Finally, the light was visible at the end of a tunnel of tree branches Keep going, the voice whispered, weaker

now She walked faster now, not caring if she tripped The walk grew rougher with each step, the branches flying out from all directions and scratching at her arms, the rain pouring harder. The forest was making its last attempt at breaking her, but she saw the end and she was not going to give up now.

The space opened, the rain stopped, the trees grew softer, and the ground became even. A sigh of relief and then the realization she had her life back again.

NONFICTION

Kafkiano

Un Viaje Transatlántico se Vuelve Kafkiano; Una ‘Red de Seguridad’ que es un Desastre Kafkiano; Teresa May, el Kafkiano Primer Ministro Británico. Kafkiano kafkiano kafkiano. Si has estado leyendo las noticias, notarás que, por lo menos en inglés, esta palabra ha emergido más de lo debido. Se ha vuelto un cliché, usado para describir cualquier situación que sea desagradable o agobiante, cuando debería referirse a sólo las situaciones más desoladas, donde no solo se pierde de manera absurda la esperanza, sino también la humanidad Ha sido mal interpretada y mal usada hasta quedar completamente retorcida de su significado inicial Hay algunas posibles razones por la cual esto habrá pasado, incluyendo la flojera que la vida moderna causa Pero la razón principal es porque lo que la palabra describe, es decir, la obra de Kafka, es imposible definir o encajonar.

El primer aspecto de la literatura de Kafka es el surrealismo, a veces desbordándose al absurdismo. Esto es visible en sus cuentos La Metamorfosis e Informe para una Academia, donde nos presenta situaciones imposibles en escenarios completamente reales. Nunca encontrarás un mono que sepa

hablar, escribir, y tomarse un trago fuera de la obra de Kafka, pero la manera de la cual presenta este hecho hace que el lector lo considere casi normal. Esta distorsión de la realidad en su obra, refleja lo absurdo que era y aún es la vida cotidiana, y nos lleva al próximo tema de su literatura, el existencialismo

El existencialismo es un término general que abarca el movimiento filosófico a inicios del siglo XX, que intenta brindar razón a la vida humana. Dentro del existencialismo, hay varios movimientos, pero el que Kafka seguía era el absurdismo, la idea de que la vida no tiene significado Según una cita suya, Dios creó la humanidad en uno de sus “malos días” (cita traducida). Esto nos ayuda a explicar la intervención de lo imposible en sus novelas, porque si la vida y la realidad no tienen significado, entonces convertirse en una cucaracha no es gran cosa, solo acelera el fin de una vida insignificante. La influencia del absurdismo en los escritos de Kafka también se puede ver en el narrador, que, aunque no es el mismo en todos sus textos, mantiene la misma indiferencia y objetividad, producto de

la idea de que nada de lo que está narrando tiene significado.

Pero para los críticos modernos, estos narradores no podrían ser más incorrectos, porque por cada cuento de Kafka hay una centena de críticos buscando significado en cada palabra. Una de las relaciones más comunes que encuentran es la influencia de la vida de Kafka en sus obras. Algunas de las obras, como El Juicio, La Metamorfosis, y En la Colonia Penitenciaria tienen elementos casi autobiográficos En El Juicio, por ejemplo, los personajes se pueden considerar proyecciones de diferentes partes del cerebro de Kafka. Georg representa el Kafka que es abogado y enamorado de Felice Bauer, el amigo en San Petersburgo representa la parte de él que es autor, y el padre representa su subconsciente En vida, Kafka no podrá ser exitoso y seguir su pasión por escribir, y en el cuento tampoco lo logrará.

Las obras de Kafka también tienen un significado histórico, aunque en la época que Kafka los escribió no pudo haber predicho esto. El tema de la pelea del individuo contra un sistema opresivo e injusto, aparece en su cuento En la Colonia Penitenciaria y en sus novelas El Proceso y El Castillo. Décadas después de su muerte, este tema se viviría en reinos comunistas y dictaduras occidentales, que imponían su ley sin dar el más mínimo cuidado

por las violaciones de los derechos humanos. Los textos de Kafka, intencionalmente o no, se volvieron proféticos.

Por último, todos los escritos de Kafka que he leído, sin excepción, son permeados por una sensación de inquietud inspirada mayormente en lo grotesco Especialmente Un Médico Rural y En la Colonia Penitenciaria, donde hechos sangrientos y repugnantes son descritos con lujo de detalle por un narrador infinitamente pasivo Esto es principalmente para infundir en el lector el mensaje de las obras, como la crueldad de los sistemas tradicionales ejemplificadas por la máquina en En la Colonia Penitenciaria. Además, la normalización de lo grotesco apoya

¿Entonces qué fue lo que escribió Kafka? Sus textos son surrealistas, existencialistas, absurdistas, autobiográficos, y grotescos, con toques del realismo mágico y rasgos proféticos Son la desesperación de los comentaristas, según el título del libro escrito por el crítico literario y profesor emérito de la Universidad de Princeton, Stanley Corngold, sobre las obras de Kafka, porque son imposibles de encajar dentro de un solo movimiento. Tienen rasgos de todo lo mencionado y más, tanto que, para poder describirlo, no se pudo usar palabras ya existentes. Y así nació la palabra hoy tan mal interpretada,

“kafkiano”

Bibliografía:

Hibberd, Jl, and Stanley Corngold “The Commentators’ Despair: The Interpretation of Kafka’s ‘Metamorphosis.’” Modern Language Review, vol. 70, no. 1, Jan. 1975, p. 232. https://doi.org/10.2307/3724977.

Smith-Laing, Tim “Why the Word ‘Kafkaesque’ Should Be Banished Forever ” The Telegraph, www telegraph co uk/books/what-to-read/franz-kafka-kafkaesque-cliche

“A Summary and Analysis of Franz Kafka’s ‘The Judgment ’” Interesting Literature, 9 Nov 2023, interestingliterature.com/2021/07/franz-kafka-the-judgment-summary-analysis.

Wikipedia contributors. “Existentialism.” Wikipedia, 19 Jan. 2024, en wikipedia org/wiki/Existentialism#:~:text=Existentialism%20is%20a%20form%20of%20 philosophical%20inquiry%20that,the%20meaning%2C%20purpose%2C%20and%20value %20of%20human%20existence

Yale University Press. “The Absurdity of Existence: Franz Kafka and Albert Camus.” Yale University Press, 12 Apr. 2022, yalebooks.yale.edu/2015/09/16/the-absurdity-of-existencefranz-kafka-and-albert-camus.

DANIELA CHAVARRÍA SALAS

Moments in Motion

Time is a funny thing, isn't it? It's this constant presence in our lives, ticking away in the background like a nagging reminder of our mortality. And lately, I've found myself hating it more than ever.

I mean, think about it - time has this sneaky way of slipping through our fingers, stealing away moments and memories before we even realize they're gone. It's like this relentless force, always pushing us forward whether we're ready or not. And right now, as a junior in high school, I feel its weight more acutely than ever.

Maybe it's because I'm watching those in my life prepare to leave, their futures stretching out before them like an open road Or maybe it's because I can feel the seconds slipping away with every passing day, each one bringing me closer to a future that feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

But you know what's even worse than the way time keeps marching on? It's the way it changes everything around us. People come and go, seasons change, and suddenly, the world looks completely different than it did just a few months ago. It's enough to make you want to scream, to grab onto

something - anything - and hold on for dear life.

And yet, amidst all this chaos, there's this one constant that I can't help but cling on to them. They've been there through it all, from the highs of victory to the lows of defeat. They've laughed with me, cried with me, and stood by my side when I needed them most. In a world that's constantly shifting and changing, they've been my rock, my anchor in the storm

So yeah, maybe I hate time. Maybe I resent the way it's always pushing me forward, dragging me kicking and screaming into the unknown But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that time may be relentless, but it's also a reminder of just how precious the moments we truly have are

Because even though time has this knack for tearing things apart, it also has a way of bringing new beginnings. As those in my life embark on their next adventures, I can't help but feel a twinge of excitement for what lies ahead. Sure, things may change, and life may throw us curveballs, but there's a certain beauty in the unknown, a sense of possibility that

keeps us moving forward even when the path ahead seems uncertain

And so, as I bid farewell to my dear friends who have become like family to me, I do so with a heart full of hope. Hope for the friendships that will endure, no matter how far apart we may be Hope for the memories we've yet to make, and the adventures that await us just around the corner And most of all, hope for a future where time may be fleeting, but filled with color and smiles, hoping that together we will encounter many more milestones side by side, accepting change one step at a time.

Defending Jacob

Defending Jacob is an American TV miniseries, essentially related to crime and justice. This captivating American TV miniseries was based on the novel also named Defending Jacob written by William Landay. The miniseries manifested itself on April 24, 2020, and the novel was released on January 31, 2012. This TV series delineates an accused 14-year-old boy and all the legal processes based on the accusation. It explicitly describes the deteriorating relationship between Jacob and his family members and the tremendous responsibility that must be carried out in a court trial. The main character of this TV series Jacob Barber was allegedly accused of the first-degree murder of Ben Rifkin- a classmate of his in McCormick Middle School The major incident -the murder of Ben Rifkin- of this series has heated a contentious debate, whether Jacob is innocent or not. Researchers and engrossed viewers continuously assert the superiority of each side; however, the evidence supporting the innocence of Jacob is loftier. People who assert the clean hands of Jacob, mostly appoint a pedophile named Leonard Patz as a criminal. The evidence proving Jacob’s innocence is superior to the shreds of evidence of Jacob’s grievance due to the absence

of the murder weapon, deficiency of scientific evidence, and allegations of Patz.

The series begins with the most respected story of Andy Barber. It meticulously describes Andy Barber and his family’s social life, manifesting a happy family He was portrayed as an exceptional attorney in the suburban area of Massachusetts. After all of the mysterious cases Andy faced, he encounters an abnormal case: an interesting yet horrifying murder case that occurred in his son, Jacob Barber’s, high school. The murdered body was found in Coldspring Park, right next to Jacob’s school Andy Barber was initially appointed as the assistant district attorney and the investigation leader of Ben Rifkin’s murder case However, something unexpected rose upon the surface Appalling evidence revelation was surfaced, appointing Jacob. The motive was clear too. Jacob was getting bullied by Ben Rifkin often As a consequence, Andy was instantaneously fired from Ben Rifkin’s case and had to experience terrifying and unprecedented situations The public and the media started to harass the Barbers, manifesting how

fatiguing court processes are The family and Jacob’s lawyer strive to prove Jacob’s innocence. For instance, while preparing for the trial, Jacob's lawyer seeks DNA evidence that might establish Jacob possesses a "murder gene" that renders him less guilty of the crime (downgrading the charge from homicide to manslaughter). To be able to accomplish this, Andy had to contact his father- a sinister murderer who had raped and murdered a 19year-old girl- to be able to obtain and compare his murder gene This was arduous work for Andy Andy has had no relationship with his father and he and formed a barrier between them when Andy was an infant. After contemplation, Andy decided to meet his father but failed to receive the sample. Nevertheless, Laurie-Andy’s wife- persuaded him for the sample. She was successful in doing so and ultimately received the DNA sample of Andy’s father. After all these incidents, the trial finally starts. The barber's family faces off a prosecutor named Neal Lojudice, a former coworker of Andy before his career came to an end. Lojudice brought up significant evidence about a story that was posted on a website, that virtually convinced the juries and the judge This story was posted by Jacob delineating what is assumed to be a written synopsis of the crime scene of Jacob murdering Ben However, shocking news approaches the trial. A confession of Patz has been

been made, stating that he has killed Ben Rifkin, excusing Jacob’s accusation. This put the trial to an end. Although Jacob was free from a continuous investigation by the police, the movie reveals that the confession of Patz was imposed. It appears that Andy’s father ordered a friend to threaten and accordingly murder Patz after the false confession was written As an aforementioned factor, this confusing ending leaves a contention whether Jacob is innocent or not. As explained before, multiple evidence reveals, sometimes appointing Jacob, Patz, or other minor characters in the series. For instance, the pieces of evidence that accuse Jacob are the fingerprint on Ben’s collar, the flashback Laurie experienced about Jacob’s violence, and so forth. However, these pieces of evidence are all circumstantial and are not factual evidence Again, this essay is asserting the innocence of Jacob.

One piece of evidence that is portrayed in the series that can disprove Jacob’s accusation is the fact that the murder weapon was never discovered. The murder weapon is considered prominent to discover, especially when murder crimes occur Fingerprints, DNA, and other scientific evidence are copious on the murder weapon. Investigators also can figure out the location of the murderer and the fact that the dead body was an outcome of a murder or suicide. The

physical evidence-murder weapon is the initial priority and king in criminal law. Physical evidence is always free of prejudice, factual, and precise. The goal of a crime scene investigation is to help determine what happened and to identify the person responsible. The capacity to notice and gather physical evidence is frequently crucial in both solving and prosecuting violent crimes(McShane). This is the essential reason why a murder weapon has to be discovered and meticulously assessed However, in Ben Rifkin’s case, no murder weapon was found This significantly reinforces the innocence of Jacob. Without a murder weapon, investigators will have absolutely no information on the location of the criminal or scientific evidence that appoints a certain person. Therefore, Jacob’s innocence is reinforced by the fact that the murder weapon was not found

Secondly, another salient piece of evidence that proves Jacob’s innocence is Ben’s body itself Neither DNA nor any scientific evidence was discovered on Ben’s body but a single fingerprint on Ben’s collar. Some might think that a fingerprint is prominent and can accuse someone of murder However, research proves that a single fingerprint is always circumstantial. According to the U.S National Research Council’s landmark report, the mere forensic method that has been continuously validated was

the nuclear DNA analysis This report asserts that all other forensic sciences, especially fingerprints are not accurate. One of the primary causes of these high mistake rates is that fingerprint analysis includes human judgment and is based on a methodology (known as "ACE-V") that is insufficient to assure the correctness and dependability of an examiner's judgments. This implies that there is no certainty that two separate examiners who follow its stages will arrive at the same conclusion(Walvisch) As an aforementioned factor, nuclear DNA analysis is the most accurate; however, absolutely no DNA was found on Ben’s body

Finally, the hindmost evidence that excuses Jacob from his accusation is Patz’s allegation Multiple pieces of evidence arise in the series, which forms a reasonable accusation for Patz. Initially, the audience is acknowledged that Leonard Patz is a pedophile He has been accused and approved to be guilty of many different child crimes. For example, Patz illegally paid a boy named Matt to have a sexual relationship with him. This happening shows that even though Patz has been punished for his past allegations he tended to continue the relationship between him and the teenagers This is the exact definition of recidivism: a convicted criminal's proclivity to re-offend. The statistics

of the Bureau of Justice show the significance of recidivism. Within three years of release, two out of every three individuals are rearrested, and more than half are jailed again This means that approximately 67% of criminals commit a crime again. It usually takes less than 3 years for criminals to get rearrested(health people). Due to these astounding rates, scientists and psychologists assume that criminals tend to commit another crime if they did previously. Despite, Patz’s former allegations another piece of evidence appointed him as the criminal of Ben Rifkin’s case. The series reveals that Patz had possession of Ben Rifkin’s photo on his phone. He deletes the photo, seemingly reluctant to delete it This provides crucial evidence to the audience that Patz is a criminal.

Therefore, Jacob is not the criminal of Ben Rifkin’s murder case due to the absence of the murder weapon, deficiency of scientific evidence, and allegations of Patz. These several factors are one of the most prominent, usually considered precedences when conducting an investigation. In this murder case; however, the entirety of the three aforementioned factors are missing, yet some researchers and audiences are blaming Jacob. Without essential evidence, it is morally obligated to eradicate the accusation. Otherwise, incarcerating innocent people might occur. This is not

desirable to the person himself and the government. The government has to compensate the wrongly accused, with a tremendous amount of money to back up all the years they have spent in prison. False accusation is also illegal in virtually any country’s law. Some people may assert that several shreds of evidence such as the story posted on the website might be valid evidence. However, this evidence as also mentioned by Jacob’s father, Andy, can be a fantasy created by Jacob as he was getting bullied by Ben. None of the evidence stating Jacob’s grievance is justifiable but rather absurd "Do your research and get your facts straight before throwing labels on people. False accusations are a serious matter in the deen Wise up," said Yusha Evans. As the quote claims, false accusations are a serious matter, and Defending Jacob exactly shows the difficulties struggled by a falsely accused family

Citations:

Mcshane, Justin Anecdotal Information vs Scientific Data in the Courtroom 20 Apr 2010, https://thetruthaboutforensicscience com/anecdot al-information-vs-scientific-data-in-thecourtroom/ Jamie Walvisch Lecturer “Fingerprinting to Solve Crimes: Not as Robust as You Think ” The Conversation, 23 Mar. 2021, https://theconversation.com/fingerprinting-tosolve-crimes-not-as-robust-as-you-think-85534. “Incarceration.” Incarceration | Healthy People 2020, https://www.healthypeople.gov/2020/topicsobjectives/topic/social-determinantshealth/interventions-res ources/incarceration.

La Gran Decision

Al enfrentarme a la decisión de salvar un libro, me encuentro con una decisión muy complicada ya que hay millones de libros de escritores magníficos y muchas obras muy bien producidas. Sin embargo, tendría que decir, con confianza, que escogería Ética para Amador por Fernando Savater porque definitivamente merece ser rescatado y preservado Savater nos hace reflexionar sobre la importancia de la libertad individual y la responsabilidad moral en nuestras decisiones. Su ensayo es una guía ya que dice que la ética es el arte de saber vivir y nos puede ayudar a ser un mundo mejor en general. Originalmente este ensayo fue dedicado a su hijo “Amador”, pero sin duda puede ayudar al resto de la sociedad también No solo tiene un vocabulario fácil de entender, sino que también incluye ejemplos muy útiles que pueden conectar con el lector aún más con la escritura.

Savater nos anima a pensar en nuestras acciones y las consecuencias que pueden provocar Por ejemplo, él discute sobre la importancia de la libertad individual, y nos hace reflexionar sobre cómo nuestras decisiones afectan nuestra propia vida y asimismo, la de los demás también

Este tema que Savater desarrolla también conecta con la responsabilidad moral y distinguir los tipos de decisiones que tomamos; si son caprichos, órdenes, o costumbres. Además, Savater resalta la importancia de ser conscientes en lo que elegimos hacer o decir, reconociendo el impacto grande que hace a nuestra sociedad

En Ética para Amador, Savater enfatiza la importancia de la libertad individual y la responsabilidad ética en nuestras acciones. Él dice que la libertad es fundamental para nuestra vida, pero también implica responsabilidad. Savater destaca que la libertad y la responsabilidad ética van de la mano, y que debemos ejercer nuestra libertad de manera consciente y practicando ética. Un ejemplo de lo que nos trae la libertad es, “Libertad es decir, pero también, no olvides, darte cuenta de que estás diciendo. Lo más opuesto a dejarse llevar, cómo podrás comprender.”

En esta cita Savater nos recuerda que la libertad no es simplemente hacer lo que queremos sin consecuencias, sino tener la capacidad de reflexionar sobre nuestras acciones también Deberíamos tomar decisiones por

nuestra propia cuenta y no dejarnos llevar por lo que los otros comentan, al final del día, la consecuencia va a ser nuestra.

Este libro merece ser rescatado y preservado por su capacidad única de cambiar nuestra forma de pensar y vivir Savater nos guía a reflexiones sobre la libertad individual y la responsabilidad moral, dándonos una valiosa guía para construir un mundo mejor. Yo definitivamente recomendaría este libro ya que ofrece enseñanzas y mensajes importantes que le sugeriría a toda la sociedad. En esta obra, Savater nos recuerda que la libertad y la responsabilidad ética son inseparables, y nos motiva a manejar nuestra libertad de manera consciente y ética para construir un mundo más justo y equitativo para todos.

OURFAVORITE BALBOATRADITIONS:

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“Always say good morning to Ms. Centeno.”

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TEACHERSWHOSECLASSES CHANGEDOURLIVES:

Mr. Williams

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“Appreciate this moments and these people around you. Grow new bond and make the real ones stronger. Cause with time moving fast everything can change with a blink of an eye.”

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“Todo con calma.”

WORDSOFADVICE:

“Trust the process, and always be yourself!❤”

“Be kind and do what makes you happy��”

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“Appreciate those who stay with you because of who you are.”

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ABOUT BALBOA TALKS

Balboa Talks is a student-led club focused on helping students express themselves and make their voices heard We aim to promote the humanities among the student body and we give students an avenue to share their experiences, reflections, opinions, research, etc in a semi-formal setting As of this year, we are also Balboa Academy’s chapter of the National English Honor Society.

Scales is our semesterly literary magazine. It showcases the work of our fellow Balboa students and includes poetry, fiction, essays, research papers in both English and Spanish as well as visual art.