Repeater 2016

The Repeater Volume 19- Perspective

Our Story The idea for The Repeater originated many years ago at a school dance. Art instructor Rebecca Dason was approached by a student who expressed his desire to have a student-led arts and literary magazine that would accurately express the creativity found at Cardinal Gibbons. The intent of the magazine was to provide students with “an opportunity to express themselves through a students’ publication,” as Dason once said. We are blessed to still be producing this magazine 19 volumes later.

Cardinal Gibbons High School

Staff List Chief Editors Daniel Diehl Nicole Howren Sarah Lewin Wyatt Posner Joseph Rodri

Staff Lucy Comello Kathryne Cooke Zachary Lambert Madi Leonards Amy Metzinger Lillian O’Brien

Special Thanks Fred Howard, Print Adviser

Adviser Rachelle Garbarine

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Table of Contents Into The Mystic Nicole Howren Cover Wonderland Brynn McDonald Inner Cover Foreword Lucy Comello & Joseph Rodri 4 Home Sam Gallero 5 Sydney, Australia Penn Harrison 6 Amsterdam Amy Metzinger 6 Fog Lillian O’Brien 7 20/20 Joseph Rodri 7 The World Lay Next To Me Lillian O’Brian 8 For Translation Danielle Letts 8 Elizabeth Lillian O’Brien 9 Abbey Road Alli Luihn 9 Freedom of Speech Alli Luihn 10 STAY OUT! Daniel Diehl 10 Treatise Joseph Rodri & Daniel Diehl 11 Equal Alli Luihn 11 Degrees Brynn McDonald 12 You or I Christopher Labaza 13 Night Lillian O’Brien 13 Third Period Emily Moser 14 Can You Tell Me? Katheryne Cooke 15 Man In The Moon Heather Rahl 16 Something Small Olivia Adams 16 Alone Wesley Wagner 17 Guardian Angel Amy Metzinger 17 Through the Looking Glass Nicole Howren 18 Untitled Lucy Comello 19 Breathe Lily Dasher 19 Chains Gianna Bottone 20 Just Wind Zachary Lambert 21 Yellow Bird Allison Baumgartner 21 Pajaritos En Alambre Ana Solana 22 Grabbing Tissues Heather Rahl

23 The Thing in the Dark Olivia Adams 24 Houses Anna Elizabeth Helton 25 Undefined Time Emily Moser 26 Confused Mackenzie Pieh 27 Sun Daze Anna Elizabeth Helton 27 Stare Sasha Rakowski-Champion 28 Lip Lights Sarah Ashbacher 28 Black Rabbit Christopher Labaza 29 Simple Elegance Nicole Howron 30 Success Meghan Johnson 31 Breathe Lily Dasher 31 Treasure Gianna Bottone 32 Raleigh, NC Penn Harrison 32 Dawn Elizabeth Candelmo 33 Look Into My Eyes Christopher Labaza 34 6 AM Ana Solana 35 Galaxy Sam Gallero 35 2

Table of Contents Anyone Amy Metzinger 36 Brain Trust Masen Smith 36 Crow Heather Rahl 37 A Long Time Ago Joseph Rodri 37 Culpable Jake Curtis 38 Prison Rat Samantha Wine 38 Sound and Color Maeve McKinstry 39 Burst Bubble Elizabeth Candelmo 39 Coryann Sasha Rakowski-Champion 40 Born In Chicago Brynn McDonald 40 POV Lucy Comello 41 Last Dance Maeve McKinstry 41 Leaf The Earth Alone Elizabeth Bereswill 42 Running Again Lucy Comello 43 Lost Masen Smith 43 Dreaming In Pink Heather Rahl 44 Subtle Palm of Dawn Christopher Labaza 45 Colophon 46

Illustration by Samantha Wine3

Foreword

We all have our own perspectives. Whether it’s based on where we’re from, our gender, our race, or our religion, we all have different things that give us a unique outlook on life and people. Part of the beauty of this is how we all can come into things with different points of view. We interpret things differently, we process information in alternative ways, and most importantly, we feel differently.

All of these traits that make us who we are also influence our receptive and creative processes.

Perspective, in its similarities and differences, should be celebrated. It’s what makes us who we are and strengthens the bonds we make with other people. It’s complex. Each of us possess millions of viewpoints concerning every aspect of our lives, and none of them match up exactly with anyone else’s. A lot of the time, it’s these differences that pull us apart and isolate us in society. So often, we’re taught to stick to the mainstream, to match our perspectives to that of the majority for fear of “not fitting in.”

That’s why we’ve dedicated this edition of the Repeater Arts and Literary Magazine to showcase these differences. This edition celebrates you, the student, your classmates, and all the wonderful differences that allow you to have your own unique perspective.

That’s not to say that there’s no common ground between us. In fact part of the beauty of everyone being so different is in finding the similarities. The question of sameness versus individuality is a conflict that man has questioned since the dawn of time, manifesting in different forms.

With the 2016 edition of the Repeater Arts and Literary Magazine, we do not hope to definitively answer this question. Doing so is impossible. What we do hope to do, however, is to shed some light on what that question means for the students who walk past you in the halls every day.

Journeying from the everyday to the surreal, the theme of this year’s magazine is perspective, and this magazine has been constructed to show how our student body is capable of both seeing the world, and changing it.

-Lucy Comello & Joseph Rodri-

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Home Sam Gallero

Volume 19

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Sydney, Australia Penn Harrison

It’s been midnight since yesterday

And it’s gone

The stars begin to blur

As I cross the date line

I speed through space and time

So here’s to the unknown

To the far side of the world

And everything beyond

But I know there’s light on the horizon

The memories that flicker across

The California coast is just

This sea of sights and songs

A row of shrinking lights

The taste of your lips

Flickering to black like the

The spark in your eyes

Life I leave behind

Amsterdam Amy Metzinger

Reminds me of home But when I wake up it’s gone On the far side of the earth I saw in your eyes More of my dreams than you’re worth The night evaporated fast Like a train roaring past And vanished into the dawn But I cling to that night in the snow and stars It’s passed but the feeling’s not gone

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Fog

Volume 19

Lillian O’Brien Take me to the place the sky comes down and lives among the trees.

Where your vision is clouded, but your mind is calmed.

Take me where the sky can kiss my skin and shroud me in softness.

Where the sun casts a grey glow and the air is thick.

Take me to the place of mystery and hidden things. where I can be alone with you forever.

20/20 Joseph Rodri

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The World Lay Next to Me Lillian O’Brien

Turned head, through the light I could see you lying there, next to me.

The rivers, blue and green, wound down your arms and wrists, and if provoked, the rivers ran red and purple.

The sun was resting on your skin

The sky in your eyes, was calm, but when you hurt the storms would gather and tears would mix with rain.

creating shadows over the contours of your body.

Your chest was rising and falling with the hum of life and I could picture the ocean inside you surging with every breath.

For Translation Danielle Letts

Sometimes I caught you choking on the ocean as it crawled up your throat, trying to reach the sky. but I would never let it hurt you.

I’d drink the saltwater from your lips to keep the ocean swells inside.

On calm days, I’d find home in your arms and just listen to the persistence of waves breaking in your chest.

I’d feel the sun warmed rivers run beneath your skin, and I could see shadows where my teeth had made little lakes of purple and red .

But turned head, through the light I could see you laying there, next to me, and I knew the world lay next to me, too.

I knew my world lay next to me.

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Volume 19

Elizabeth Lillian O’Brien

Abbey Road Alli Luihn

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Freedom of Speech Alli Luihn

STAY OUT! Daniel Diehl

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Treatise

Joseph Rodri & Daniel Diehl The pursuit of happiness is an American promise, but it cannot be guaranteed.

After all, it’s hard to define happiness when it is shaped so heavily by the American Dream. The American Dream meaning everyone owning a house, a car, and a nuclear family. But the one thing that the American Dream doesn’t encompass is us. Our person, our body. Safety of our bodies is the one right which needs to be an inalienable right above all else, but we are constantly reminded of the ignorance and hate promoted by our nation’s environment. An expectation of violence. In such a world, what can one do to end the cycle, to halt the hate? The truth is that I don’t know, and frankly I don’t believe anyone knows. What I do know, however, is the first step to our personal redemption. A step that often escapes us, a step that is so small but seems so far away. A step that, once we take it, will be a constant reminder of what we would be.

What we could be.

What we should be.

That step is love.

Equal Alli Luihn

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Degrees Brynn McDonald

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Volume 19

You or I Christopher Labaza

You or I are one, you see.

But how can this ever be?

We are the stars, but not the sun.

We glide across the sky as one?

We run and jump through fields of unwinding grass.

We roll down hills and have some fun.

We are apart, don’t you know that?

Now I see you’re getting it!

When you’re here, I am here, too.

And when you’re there, I’m there, like you.

When you ring a pretty bell, I ring that bell, as well.

They cannot really call us we, you see?

For I am you and you are me.

Night Lillian O’Brien

You will never ever be alone.

You needn’t even have a phone.

Together is how we are to be Together, you know, is eternity For I am here, Where you are, too And you are there I’m there with you.

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Third Period Emily Moser

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Can You Tell Me? Katheryne Cooke

Volume 19

I don’t understand the screaming… the pain….why the world can be such a shade of black and white. I can never seem to picture it in any other color other than just plain old black and white. Can you tell me what other shade it can be? Perhaps what the colors of a rainbow look like without tears lining my eyes? Or what color the feeling of happiness is painted when you experience a sunny day? What does it feel like to be standing out in the rain with the drops soaking your clothes? How my cheeks can have only tiny bits of gray coloring when it is so very, very cold. Can you tell me why? Can you show me how I can see the light shining through the windows of a building made of glass? Or perhaps you could describe the warm touch of a lover or even the love of a mother.

Can you tell me what it’s like?

Can you tell me what it’s like to live in a world without pain or fear? I can’t tell you because I can no longer feel. Everything I see is only in black and white and shades of gray and dim lights. I can no longer remember what red looks like. I can only see it as black. Something dark and something I know to be disliked. What was it that made me think this way…could you tell me why I only see in shades of black and white?

Was it my past that tainted my view? Or was it the violent things that shape this world? Loud noises? The screaming sirens that made my ears that awful red color. I don’t want to remember that!! I like things in these shades of black and white! It’s dark where I am, the screaming never ceases, the pain never ends, and silence is so loud it hurts to even think…why do I like this world so much yet hate it as well?

Where am I? Can you tell me? Can you help me understand where I am?

Why does everything look like glass? Why am I standing in a puddle of black water?

Why. Why? WHY!

Can you tell me why it hurts to breathe? Or why my chest feels cold and wet every time I see this familiar face of a boy I knew? Why does the rain make me said?

Why does she cry in the dark? Why is the world so dark? Why do they hide things?

Can you tell me why?

Why won’t you answer? Are you listening?

Wait! Please! Come back! I’m only trying to understand…why won’t you tell me? WHY? Why can’t you help me paint a picture in my mind? I remember all these things, I do. I just can’t seem to remember the colors or the clues…I just want to remember everything before it was all black and white.

Why do you refuse to tell me? Why is everything getting so loud? Why is my chest starting to hurt? Please won’t you help me?

Is it something I said? Am I speaking too loud? Am I saying too much? Why do you go? I don’t understand! Please don’t leave!

SILENCE. It hurts my ears more than I can say. More than the sight of everything being so colorless…more so than when I lost him.

I know why you leave…I know why the world is black and white and those cold steel shades of gray. Why there’s no color; why everything is black and white. I know who you are. You are the face of the one I knew. The one I trusted…

Can you tell me is this why I see everything in black and white now? Because of you? I think it must be true. I’m wrong you say? Oh no, I’m right. I’m always right… you see I knew everything before it happened, all the colors, all the feelings, I knew them all before I knew black and white…I knew them before I met you… 15

Man In The Moon Heather Rahl

Something Small Olivia Adams My cities are made of pots and pans My sky is wallpaper My bed is a cotton ball My airplanes made of paper I fear your feet I fear your noise I am crushed by hands I am mashed by toys My murder comes with no regret I mean nothing, but yet I have a goal, I have a thought Yes me, the minuscule spot But I am a little frightened thing What purpose does my small life bring?

I chase this answer with all my might But tiny legs are bad for flight So I am nothing, nothing Nothing at all For that is the life For something small.

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Volume 19

Alone

Wesley Wagner Everyone must have some place to go Somewhere they personally know You do not want anyone to feel alone, Or they might do something you don’t condone.

If everyone has somewhere to go, Where they will never feel alone, The world will be a better place, Full of happiness, security and grace.

Guardian Angel Amy Metzinger

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Through The Looking Glass Nicole Howren 18

Volume 19

Untitled Lucy Comello

I think if you stopped loving me I would disappear.

Because your touch can start and stop my pulse and send my blood all rushing up to color me and make me realyour gaze turning me corporeal.

If you were the Sun (and I’m fairly sure you are) I would be the Moon.

Your light gives me a center point to which I can return.

While I am cold, oh you are warm and my fingertips remember the gravity that you exude to which I am happily tethered.

I think if I stopped loving you (as if I could) my very soul would object to remain with you and leave my body hollow and derelict.

Perhaps it is unhealthy as I have thought (not just once) beforebut as long as you say you love me, dear I will love you more.

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Chains

Gianna Bottone

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Just Wind

Volume 19

Zachary Lambert

Swirling through the city streets, The wind travels, abrupt.

Cascading through the innocent, Condemning the corrupt.

A mystic breeze amongst them, Never causing Cain.

Infecting all the crooked men, An unrelenting rain.

Sweeping through the subway cars, Passing soulless eyes.

Gliding through the office suites, Reaching for the sky.

Falling all around them, Concrete coming down.

Yellow Bird Allison Baumgartner

The human dream is dying, Nowhere to be found.

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Pajaritos En Alambre Ana Solana

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(Little %irds on the :ire)

Volume 19

Grabbing Tissues

Heather Rahl

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The Thing in the Dark Olivia Adams

I am the thing in the dark.

I am what you tell your children doesn’t exist.

I am the dark corner of your room, right before you turn on the light.

I am the thing behind your closed door.

I am the reflection in the mirror when there is no one around to see it.

My life is colorless, lifeless.

I wander blind though the warm, perfect world you sculpt for yourself and you tell yourself is safe.

You say you know what I am, you give me names like ghost and monster, but that doesn’t make a difference.

The illusion of safety is strong, but you can feel me still.

I see you run upstairs in the dark, I see you avoid the empty street.

But even then I am there.

I am the embodiment of the unknown.

I am the thing in the dark.

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Houses Anna Elizabeth Helton

Volume 19

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Undefined Time Emily Moser

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Confused Mackenzie Pieh

Volume 19

Everyday People ask me what I’m doing, Where I’m going, Who I want to be.

I shake my head and shrug them off, I don’t have the answers they seek.

Within this lifetime I wish not to be confined To one place, To one space, To the mundane concept of time HoweverIn my quest For labeless-ness, The solitude I seek Cannot be found On common ground It’s not so tongue-in-cheek.

Searching for purpose in my life Leaves me less-enthused.

As for my wanderlust heart, My contradictory art, I guess you could say I’m just Confused.

Sun Daze Anna Elizabeth Helton 27

Stare

Sasha Rakowski-Champion

Lip Lights Sarah Ashbacher

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Volume 19

Black Rabbit Christopher Labaza

Have you seen a hoppity black rabbit, by any odd chance? It seems that he has slipped away. His name is Harry, but perhaps if you had called him by “Hare” or “Mr. Blubbers” or “Rabbity,” he may have answered you.

He’s a swift little thing, and if you had seen him, he would have led you on a grand adventure. He would have jumped between trees and hopped over holes, and maybe even hid in a cave. You would have known that he was my black rabbit if his ear twitched twice when he saw you.

He has a bit of a limp, but you can only tell when he’s walking slowly. He was attacked by a dog and didn’t manage to get away just in time, but he’s been jumping better since then.

He has big, long floppity ears and a white puffy tail, and did I mention the rest of him was black? If you had seen him, maybe he sat at your feet and looked up at you with sparkling eyes, as if to say, “How about a carrot.” Yes, he loves the things, though they make him mad. He gets all jittery and bounces off the walls for a week at even the nibble on one. So I hope that if you saw him, you ignored his bashful eyes and kept your carrots hidden. He has a devilish nose you know, so he can smell them behind your back. Watch out for his whiskers as well. You will know that he is about to pounce when the third one on the left begins to shake.

“did I mention the rest of him was black?”

Oh, I do hope that he did not find a carrot. It would take months to find him again.

You see, he has done this before, back when I only knew him a little. I was foolish back then, like you are right now, but since I found him again, it has been pleasant.

He is quite the fellow; you’d know if you’d seen him. He can do tricks and jump high and that sort of thing. But sometimes, at night, I can tell that he’s lonely, bored of his only friend, me.

“I

can tell that he’s lonely,”

He will tap his foot twice when he’s hungry. So, if you’ve seen him, I hope you fed him some food. He will eat anything, really, but I find that lettuce is best when he’s tired and celery is best when he’s not. And remember, never carrots. If you don’t have anything else, he’d settle for grass.

So I ask again, have you seen my black rabbit? He hopped away just yesterday. I miss him so very much and I implore to you now, if you have seen my black rabbit, will you please send him home to me?

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Simple Elegance Nicole Howren

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Volume 19

Success Megan Johnson

You search for something, Although you understand your limitations, Nothing stands in your way, so You conquer them anyway.

Clear the path, Enjoy the moment while it lasts.

Success is eminent; the journey lends you much, much more, so Stick to your guns.

Single-effect: greatness.

Breathe Lily Dasher

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Raleigh, NC Penn Harrison

This kaleidoscope of memories Plays back like one wild ride That little boy seems so far away Reaching for that Carolina sky A life, a love, a grind, a climb To face the setting sun But as I gaze back on the journey so far I sense it’s just begun So I take a breath and turn my back On all I’ve ever known As long as I’m where I belong I’ll never be alone Blessed and primed to leave behind The place I used to call home This world expands, you’re in command The second you believe You’re better than the path behind you So pull yourself up and leave

So many fears and broken hearts I’ll strand back in this place But it blessed me with More than I can imagine And that I’ll have to take 35000 feet off the ground And thousands of miles from home I feel grounded on the fly This kid was born to roam Wherever this ride takes me next That is where I’ll call home So someday I’ll look back and call This place my boyhood home As long as I’m where I belong I’ll never be alone Every day’s a journey and The journey’s what I’ll call home

Treasure Gianna Bottone

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Volume 19

Dawn

Elizabeth Candelmo

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Look Into My Eyes Christopher Labaza When you look into my eyes, what do you see? Do you see my joys, my sorrows, my regrets, my hopes and dreams, my fears, my demons, my dreads, my passion, my love, or any of that? Do you see the tears that fell when I fell out of the pine tree in the first grade? Or the sparkles that shimmered when I saw the world for the first time. Do you see my thoughts, my theories, my actions before I acted? Or do you see a pale blue in a sea of white, broken by an island of dark emptiness that is me?

When you look at my hands, my fingertips, do you see the faces of the people that I have shaken hands with, or the branches of the trees I have climbed, or the pin of the needle that pricked my thumb? Do you see the pages of the books I have turned, or the fabrics that I have felt, or the cold, dry hands of my friend as he slipped away?

Do you see her smile before her stare goes blank? Do you feel the muscles relax and the world come crashing down on you?

When you look at my feet, do you see the trails I have walked, the hallways I have scoured, the mountains that I have beaten, the puddles that I have splashed through? Can you count the miles I have walked, the steps I have taken, the amount of earth that I have felt beneath me? Do you see all the pairs of shoes that I have struggled to fit into one last time, or the socks that I have worn with holes all over?

What am I to you? Am I just some fellow, just another hand to shake, another pair of eyes to look into, a face in a crowd, a figure that knows nothing of what it means to live like you do? Am I a being that you can sweep away with the flick of your wrist, a voice that you can silence with the snap of your finger? Or is there a chance at all, even a tiny, minute speck of chance, so small that it has been lost for years, a chance that I am just as complex, as happy, as frightened, as thoughtful, as nervous, as scared, as lonely, as bashful as you?

Do you think that I am an empty shell, with a dark blackness eating at my insides, with nothing but a steady breeze to keep me going? Am I a ghost, a thing that can never be as human as you? Are you the only one who can love, or dream, or hope, or worry, or forget, or regret, or learn to try again?

If so, then open your eyes, see the world for what it is. You are not the only bird that can fly.

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6 AM

Volume 19

Ana Solana

Galaxy Sam Gallero

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Anyone Amy Metzinger

Brain Trust Masen Smith

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Volume 19

Crow

Heather Rahl

A Long Time Ago Joseph Rodri

A long time ago, I can’t say how long, I was sitting on a bench in the park. I don’t remember why I was there, it really was quite a long time ago. What I do remember was that there were many birds that day. Oh that’s right! I remember now!

I was feeding the birds. That’s it. Yes.

There were many kinds of birds. Short, tall, thin, fat. A lot of fat ones, actually. But the one I remember best was the one who landed next to me on the bench.

He stared at me for a good second, and then he kept staring. I thought for sure he was interested in my newly bought seed, so I tossed some his way (That was probably a bad idea, I had to wipe the crumbs off afterwards.)

As he ate his seed, I looked forward, leaning back, and took some deep breaths. I opened my mouth and said “I envy you, being able to fly wherever you wish. It must be liberating.”

“Eh, it’s not that great. Quite burdensome, really.”

I turned about as quickly as I could, but he had already left, or at least he was no longer next to me. It was about then that I decided I was perhaps done with feeding birds that day, so I began making my way home.

Anyway, it was a long time ago.

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Culpable Jake Curtis

Can’t rebel Understanding others’ motives Love. Everyone needs love Praise the honest man, he who accepts consequences As brothers and sisters, all life has value Believe that things will get better Lazarus gives hope for the future Everybody deserves a second chance

Prison Rat Samantha Wine

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Volume 19

Sound and Color Maeve McKinstry

Burst Bubble Elizabeth Candelmo

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Coryann

Sasha Rakowski-Champion

Born In Chicago Brynn McDonald

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POV

Volume 19

Lucy Comello Lean on me. I am here for you, even if you don’t know it. I am here, as I have been for years and years. Look at all the pages strewn across your desk and wall- so many you can’t count them all. But each one recalls a loved one, an enemy, a stranger whose visage caught your greedy eye but never again. No matter, they were already ensnared in your impossible heart- how can you desire them all at once?

How many times have you cried yourself to inches near insanity? All for what? A pair of stark gray eyes in the crowd. Yet you’ve forgotten me. And what am I but a creation of your simple mind? Another memory scribbled into existence by your offbeat, asymmetric rhymes. So here we linger, here I linger still, in your cloud of memories. While you change, I stay the same- oh, There's beauty in consistency.

Last Dance Maeve McKinstry

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Leaf The Earth Alone Elizabeth Bereswill

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Running Again

Volume 19

Lucy Comello

Running Again A shadow?

There, in the corner of my eyea glimpse of satin flitting by At the curtain.

Just a curtain? I can’t tell.

Oh, a whisper from the window well!

“Dark clouds on the horizon, and shielding out the sun-no time! It’s so cold! So much colder now, my tears are turning crystalline!”

Shatterand I can see them now.

Shimmering jagged, all aroundher tears upon the ground.

Climbmy hands stinging from the cold metal, how much further now?

Desperate, but she urges me, up and out the window well.

“See there! The dismal omen that reaches for your skies! So come with me, I know a place the gods themselves can’t find.”

Joggingrunningsprinting now!

Our feet take flight across the lawn.

Oh terrified, I’m terrified, scared to do this all again!

But I know, I know this time it’s better I know I can escape this stormy weather, when I’m running with a friend.

Lost

Masen Smith

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Dreaming In Pink Heather Rahl

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Volume 19

Subtle Palm of Dawn Christopher Labaza

Sitting on a park bench just south of Sadness, I see the lamplight in the distance fade.

The cloudless sky is dull and yellow, clinging onto the choking night lights of the restless city. I am alone, more than usual now, but no more than every man who hasn’t dared to go to bed. Taxis zoom by, keeping the time of the children in the back seats, expressing their dampened love that only lasts until the morning.

They are heading to an unfamiliar home that was lost among the boundless tales and the rotting lies. The dreams are suppressed until the dazed ringing of the Sunday bells. The children laugh and pretend to live, on the edge of Sorrow, too far from home to walk in one night. They are filled with poison that flows like honey from their bitter tongues. Poison that was supposed to fix the pain, or at least hold it at bay until the day was over.

An eerie, lonely silence creeps over the city, seeping between the steel fingers and softening the whispers to deadened thuds. I listen to the city; I hear its heavy, rasping breath beneath the wavering light.

Around the bends and bends of yellow-dotted lines, cats lurk in the shadows and hunt the ghosts that missed the last train West. They slip into the light only long enough to pierce the city with their golden eyes.

A fever haunts this paradise and strangles out the last ferral groans. Happy people have left this haven long ago. Work is plentiful, but ambition grows only in warm weather, and there is none of that around here.

I cannot stand to see the city fall apart at the fraying seams. Lost is the time of old; the time that brought good memories and cheer.

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Colophon The Repeater, Volume 19, was produced by The Repeater staff at Cardinal Gibbons High School in Raleigh, NC and was printed by East Coast Digital Printing in Morrisville, NC. The cover piece was photographed by Nicole Howren. The book contains 46 pages, including 12 full inside color pages, plus four color covers, and was produced using Adobe InDesign.

All body copy was set in 11.5 point. Book Antigua print was used throughout the entire book, titles were printed in 33 point Ubuntu print, and all authors’ and artists’ names were printed in 15 point UI Segoe Emoji print. The 2014-2015 issue of The Repeater won nine awards, including overall distinction, from the NC Scholastic Media Association;second place for photography, and honorable mention for its cover design. Student-writer Rachel Harris ‘16 won an individual award for her poem, while student-photographers Nicole Howren ‘17 and Diego Pineda ‘15 won individual awards for their photography.

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