5th Edition, Issue 4 The Selladore | Celestial Conversations

The Selladore

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5th Edition, Issue 4

15/6/2021

The Selladore

Cover: Untitled, Maya Kors

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The Selladore

Dicere sicut furcifur.

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The Selladore The Selladore

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SELLADORE "I was astonished when someone first showed that by writing cellar door as Selladore one produces an enchanting proper name.” - C.S. Lewis “Your language too has soft and beautiful words, but they are not always appreciated. What could be more musical than your word cellar-door?” - W.D. Howells “The modern small home or apartment has ... deprived today's child of ... the pleasant summer afternoon activity of sliding down cellar doors. Just what happened to the slanted cellar door in this efficient age isn't clear; although cellars have remained, nothing has disappeared more quietly from modern life than these cellar doors.” - William Chapman White “This famous linguist once said that of all the phrases in the English language, of all the endless combinations of words in all of history, that ‘cellar door’ is the most beautiful.” - Karen Pomeroy “Sell a cellar, door a cellar, sell a cellar cellar-door, door adore, adore a door, selling cellar, door a cellar, cellar cellar-door. There is damned little meaning and less sense in such a sentence, but there is, unless my tonal balance is askew, twice more rhythm and twice more lovely sound in it than in anything, equally idiotic, that Miss Gertrude ever confected.” - George Jean Nathan “I’m like you ...I remember everything.” - André Aciman

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Contents

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Tracklist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7,8 Untitled . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Chloe Kwan I Dont Chase, I Attract. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Aahana Uppal Disco Heart at the Rainbow Getaway. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Cate Woodhead Dante’s Cosmos . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Madison Ketcheson i made it . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Anonymous Untitled . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Chloe Kwan We exist in the space between the stars. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Joelle Masia-Mandala Untitled . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Madighan Ryan Untitled . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Chloe Kwan Untitled . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Chloe Kwan Dogs, Horses, Landscapes and Personal Anecdotes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Cate Woodhead Shadows in the Dark. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23,24,25 Bianca Sugunasiri Love Bleeds. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Bianca Sugunasiri Are you Perfect?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Hannah Gerring For what use is a journal?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 Hannah Gerring Storm on the sea of Galilee. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29,30

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Hannah Gerring

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INTRODUCTIO Within these pages are entire worlds, constellations of meaning and purpose brought to bear upon us by the girls of Elmwood. There is a startling array of techniques and styles fraught with humour, passion and intent. Though each piece says something different they are similar in that they all say something, meaningful and forcefully. We started this journal for this express purpose, to give the girls of this school an opportunity to regain control over language, to exert agency where there might exist passivity. These authors have tamed language to meet their emotional ends and, in so doing, give you the reader an understanding that such things are possible, no matter your age or intent. We ask simply that you read these words with an open mind, an open heart and with the understanding that, should you choose to express yourself as well, we will be waiting for you with the next issue.

Sincerely, Your Editors

N

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TRACKLIST Normal Song. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Perfume Genius

Without You . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Harry Nilsson

Swimming. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Maple Glider

The Bug Collector . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hailey Heynderickx

Creature Fear . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Bon Iver

Free Bird. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Lynyrd Skynyrd

I Found a Reason. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Velvet Underground

I’m Not in Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kelsey Lu

A Song for You . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Donny Hathaway

Like I Used To. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sharon Van Etten, Angel Olsen

Every Time the Sun Comes Up . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sharon Van Etten

Falling Ashes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Slowdive

Seventeen . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ladytron

The Adults Are Talking. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Strokes

I Wouldn’t Ask You . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Clairo

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Achilles Come Down . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Gang of Youths

Arcade . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Duncan Laurence

Cradles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Sub Urban

Liability . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Lorde

Counting Stars . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . OneRepublic

NASA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ariana Grande

Time . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Aidan Gallagher

The Start of Something . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Voxtrot

How to Save a Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Fray

Mirrors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Justin Timberlake

Electric Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Børns

Hideaway. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Kiesza

Clouds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Zach Sobiech

Erase . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Omar Apollo

Welcome To Wonderland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Anson Seabra

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Untitled, Chloe Kwan

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I Dont Chase, I Attract Aahana Uppal

pining and pining, i keep pining it’s been years i keep pining i keep chasing are you looking for mental stimulation? do: don’t: parody knots perusing groupthink foreign films talking ahead

you already know how to know something about everything. you tell me this but why haven’t i found my everything. you tell me this but my everything. keeps getting further and further away no matter how fast i chase, my fate is faster alwaysfasteralwaysfasteralwaysfaster my stars just become stars i see my stars but when did they become so dull my stars and my fate hand in hand getting smaller so small i find myself aching, empty,

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Disco Heart at the Rainbow Getaway, Cate Woodhead

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Dante’s Cosmos Madison Ketcheson

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Dante’s universe: the gravity-ridden, hushed Earth like an archaic spring bulb at the centre of rings. It is a thrilling fusion of philosophy and science and astrology and spirituality, all under the yellow gaze of ‘Dio’. Dante’s final poem, Divine Comedy, assembles his vision of unity into a final conclusion: redemption and love. It is the fundamental idea that with many may come one, that the tumult of the universe may be harmonious, and that the raucous human beings on Earth are a whole that is larger than the sum of its parts.

Angelic hierarchy is arranged from the moon (for those with discarded promises) to the fixed stars (for the Christianity that Dante believed ruled over all). Beyond the edges of our world, it is comforting to think that there may be a greater force to keep our small Earth in place - that though we may aspire to hold the Earth in our hands, it will forever elude us like sand through fingers “the more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain”.

Like scattered dust mites, blown into chaos by a passerby, we jolt through life. Within, though, we are clockwork. The mechanical beating of the heart, mitosis, and the monthly addition of 3.5 millimeters of growth to the tips of our fingernails are all executed with precision. Yet our hearts rarely beat the same way twice. Our body sags with time, even as the universe is propelled forward by dark energy. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Dante’s universe: gravity-ridden, yet immaterial. At last we realize that there is no weight to our Earth. The distance between its power and our power is profound; yet the secrets and nuances of Earth are not blurred because the planet is secluded - the planet is secluded because it is blurred.

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i made it Anonymous

look, i made it! i know i may not be where you wanted me to be or where everyone expected me to be or where some people may have needed me to be but i made it “as long as you do your best, everything will be okay” i did

“you’re doing well, now keep that going” i did

“i know things are rough, but you must try your best” i did

“not good enough, be better” i did

over the years, the expectations inched higher and higher until they were completely out of my reach and no one seemed to notice that i was left straining at the bottom

but the stars are finally turning in my favour, i now carry my fate in my own hands

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Almost Home, Orla Kelly

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Untitled, Chloe Kwan

so look, i made it!

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We exist in the space between the stars Joelle Masia-Mandala

we are all just pieces of each other words and phrases that stuck habits we learned from our mothers moments that happened out of pure luck

we exist in the space between the stars living in the galaxy of our minds hiding our ugly emotional scars racing into the future, blind

what are we, but wild ideas encased in bodies of stardust? ethereal beings tied to mother earth making bonds, falling in love, and breaking trust crying and dying over our self-worth

how insignificant we are on our floating rock how important we think ourselves how we watch the way we dress, act, and talk how we lose our thoughts in imaginary realms

but how significant our small world is to us how high we hold ourselves over everyone else can we start craving the simplicity of youthfulness instead of having to feel for our pulse?

after all, we exist in the space between the stars let’s pretend that nothing can hurt us and we’ll live forever let’s do kid things like blasting music in the car and watching the moon at midnight in september

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Untitled, Madighan Ryan

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Untitled, Chloe Kwan 15/6/2021

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Untitled, Chloe Kwan

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Dogs, Horses, Landscapes and Personal Anecdotes, Cate Woodhead

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SHADOWS IN THE DARK Bianca Sugunasiri Wesley walked along the wet London road, inhaling the crisp night air. He let out a sigh, watching his breath billow in the wind. Skirting the cobblestone streets as he walked, he made sure to give all the streetlights a wide berth. Keeping to the darkness. A whistling wind fluttered through the crooked buildings, chilling his skin.

Despite this, he let his black overcoat flare out behind him, victim to the wind.

There was a flicker to the right and his hand flew to his pocket, leather curling around the familiar weight of his switchblade. He crept closer to the alley, toes of his boots a hair’s breadth away from the ring of light surrounding the streetlamp.

His fingers relaxed when he saw the figure. The dark silhouette moved across the brickwork, hopelessly two-dimensional. Wesley stared at his shadow, motionless, as it flipped into a neat handstand. He tugged on the leather of his fingerless gloves.

“What, Peter?” he demanded, voice raspy but warm. The wind stole his words before they were barely out of his mouth.

His shadow stuck its tongue out at him and flipped onto one hand.

Wesley rolled his eyes. “If you merely wish to antagonize me, I will be leaving now.” He curved his foot, slowly turning his back.

Peter waved frantically at him.

Wesley crossed his arms glancing back over his shoulder. “What do you want?” he repeated.

The shadow made a waving motion and mimed walking.

Wesley frowned. “I’m not following you. I have places to be.”

Despite the fact that Peter was lacking in pupils, Wesley knew by the shake of its head that it was rolling its eyes.

The shadow gestured again, more insistently.

Wesley turned fully around, crossing his arms tighter. “Why should I follow you?”

The shadow pointed first at him and then at itself.

Wesley scowled. “We are not the same.”

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Untitled, Chloe Somerville

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Peter gestured at the black mess of hair on both their heads. Wesley smoothed his back and flipped his collar up, self-consciously.

“We have the same hair, so what?”

The shadow crossed its arms and mimicked him.

Wesley let out a growl. “Fine. But if this isn’t good I will ignore you for a month.”

The shadow stuck its tongue out, presumably blowing a raspberry at him, before bounding off across the wall.

Wesley gritted his teeth. “Needy clotpole,” he muttered, before striding off after it.

Peter apparently had a plethora of energy that day, because it bounded from surface to surface unrelentingly. Wesley was walking as fast as he could without running. He refused to run after his shadow.

“I’m going to kill you,” he muttered, through gasped breaths.

Eyes locked on the dancing figure, Wesley wasn’t watching the street. At least not until icy clamminess pierced his leg. He glanced down at the puddle he’d just stomped in and glared as water began to seep into his boots.

“This is your fault,” he called, shaking the droplets off his shoe and stomping after the shadow.

Peter made a laughing motion, but only stopped moving for a fraction of a second. Wesley huffed before following him.

Finally. Finally. After what felt like 50 years, Peter stopped. Its form was contorted against the fountain currently serving as its anchor. Wesley caught up to it, scowl on his face. When he finally caught his breath, he straightened and glanced around. They were on a pier. A long, wooden boardwalk extended over the lapping waves. At the end was a small bench, intended for two.

“You took me here to see a bench.”

The shadow shook his head and urged him forward.

Wesley shook his head. “Peter, this is ridiculous. I’m not in the mood for your games.”

The shadow merely crossed its arms and tapped its foot.

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Wesley sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and started down the boardwalk. The wood creaked under his footfalls and he winced, unwilling to take a swim in the glacial depths. He let his boots guide him to the very edge of the dock as he peered over. It was as though the sky was inverted. The water was so clear that it was a perfect mirror of the expanse of stars above him. He looked up and was hit with a feeling of incredible insignificance, bracketed by two endless universes.

He lowered himself onto the bench; the silky fabric of his trousers shifted across his skin as he crossed one leg over the other. He leaned back and gazed outward.

He tried to imagine others who’d been here before him. Best friends, deathly devoted. Passionate couples, hopelessly in love. So wrapped up in each other that they barely noticed their own insignificance. How they were merely invisible drops in the endless expanse of Time.

But he knew. Of course he knew. He knew the only constant. The only thing that really mattered. Time. It would never really run out. It would for him, naturally. He was human. But Time would go one, not knowing or caring about anything or anyone.

“I reckon I’m the same way,” he murmured.

He glanced back to see if Peter was miming anything in response. The shadow was nowhere to be found.

Wesley wasn’t surprised. Alone and constant. It’s what he knew.

So he leaned back and continued gazing out, into the world, trapped in a single moment that Time had granted him.

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Love Bleeds, Bianca Sugunasiri

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Are you Perfect?, Hannah Gerring

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For what use is a journal?, Hannah Gerring

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Storm on the sea of Galilee Hannah Gerring

The Storm on the Sea of Galilee was painted in 1633 by Rembrandt van Rijn. It was previously in the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston but was stolen in 1990 and remains missing.

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Sparkling seaspray of mercurial temperament, Lost at sea, imprisoned in a basement?

Tempestuous sails, flailing mast, Or perhaps the vault of an art collector outcast.

Golden light seeps through malicious clouds, Your thirteen lives in eternal brig Forever calming the tempestuous waves, A life spent salty, foaming, sea-sick.

Tipping off the earth’s face, below, a sea monster, Hidden treasures in the bow, or the living room of a mobster?

Ahoy! Rembrandt’s only seascape, Not ready yet for the world, buried under police tape.

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WRITERS Aahana Uppal Madison Ketcheson Joelle Masia-Mandala Hannah Gerring Bianca Sugunasiri ARTISTS Chloe Kwan Hannah Gerring Joelle Masia Mandala Aahana Uppal Cate Woodhead Madighan Ryan EDITORS Hannah Gerring Bianca Sugunasiri DESIGNER Hannah Gerring IMMORTAL FOUNDERS Safa Siddiqui Megan Sweeney PAST EDITORS Sophia Swettenham Madeleine Klebanoff O’Brien Linnea Dalvi Zaina Khan Abigail Butler

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