Ink 2020

Table of Contents Cover + Phoenix Decal: Alexandra Wang Family - Marcus Chiang (3)

Untitled - Ben Nie (38)

Photo by Dorothy Babb (4) Top Hat Duck by Adele Goldader (4)

Starlight - Elisabeth Forsyth (39-40) Art by Fotini Mourelatos (40)

Untitled - Vico Wang (5)

I Wonder Why - Max Marinelli (41)

A Tree’s Reflection - Rebecca Wusinich (6-7) Art by Sydney Bendesky (7)

Smoke and Wrinkles - Colleen Crowley (42)

Untitled - Jack Li (8-9) Art by Alexandra Wang (4) Art by Alexandra Wang (10) Art by Alexandra Wang (10)

Marmalade- Eric-Ross McLaren (43) Photo by Dorothy Babb (44) Art by Fotini Mourelatos (44) Poster by Jade Halpern and Thea Volpp

Fridge Magnet - Tristan Szapary (11-13)

The Woman With The Red Laced Boots - Roma LoGiurato (45)

Primal Barbarism - Dabin Seomun (14)

Untitled - Evan Sweitzer (46)

Licensed - Thaddeus Bashaw (15-17)

Home - Zach Zhai (47-48) Photo by Zach Zhai (47)

Art by Adele Goldader (18) Art by Alexandra Wang (18)

What is Home? - Roma LoGiurato (49)

Graves - Liam Giszter (19)

She Who Makes the Clocks Tick - Dabin Seomun (50)

16 Ways Of Looking At Quarantine (20-21)

As I Sit Here - Max Marinelli (51)

The Zoom Room - Jade Halpern (22-23)

Untitled - Lydia Russell (52)

My Quarantine Thoughts - Jai Smith (24)

Aquarium- Aiden McLean (53)

Hands - Zach Zhai (25)

It’s All A Peaceful Sight From A Distance- Max Marinelli (54)

Those Eyes - Max Marinelli (26)

Yun Tai - Zach Zhai (55-56)

Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune - Anonymous (27-30) Photo by Dorothy Babb (27) Art by Emmet Sun (30) Art by Emmet Sun (30)

Untitled - Carrie Ann Teti (57)

The Somber Lamb and The Innocent Wolf - Dabin Seomun (31)

Lamp by BK Kothari (60) Lamp by Reed Cooper (60)

The Streets of Heaven - Dev Gupta (32-33)

Mr.Wu - Zach Zhai (61-62)

Art by Fotini Mourelatos (34) Art by Adele Goldader (34) Art by Fotini Mourelatos (34)

Costume Design by Sophia Haggray (63)

I Dream That’s Why We Are Divided - Max Marinelli (35)

Art by Dabin Seomun (65) Art by Sydney Bendesky (65) Art by Sydney Bendesky (65)

My Name - Zach Zhai (36-37) Art by Roi Hananel (37)

JUST IN CASE - Liam Giszter (58-59) Art by Dabin Seomun (59)

Old Man Larry’s - Matteo Lewis (64)

Senior Messages (66-68) Bread Boy by Emmet Sun (69)

Family By: Marcus Chiang

W

sense of warmth, like a favorite

resilience of its own and refuses

sweatshirt that just came out of

to be blown over. Sometimes I

the dryer. My sister’s are like his

wish my louder fingers were more

but smaller, covered in cuts and

like his quiet ones. Sometimes I

marker stains, growing, stubborn,

think he wishes he had my louder

happy. Sometimes it’s like each of

ones.

her fingers can be another smaller person, bouncing their way along.

The dog’s fingers are very different from all of ours. They

Mom’s fingers are long and thin,

are warm and furry and soft to

hen I play the piano in the

old and bony, tired from doing

hold, and she likes to put them in

family room or the cello in the

work all her life. The bones that

the air so that you’ll grab them.

library, I always notice my fingers.

stand out keep the five fingers

She’ll hold hands with people and

Sometimes they move smooth

together and make sure they don’t

then roll over for belly rubs

and fast, like performers dancing

drift or fall apart. When

afterward. If more people had her

their way across the stage. Other

something is difficult or hard, her

fingers, we might be happier with

times they’re clunky and slow and

fingers clench together, as if

each other. At least, that’s what I

I get fed up.

they’re hugging each other for

think.

support. My brother also has I have rather short fingers.

long, thin, reserved fingers,

They’re humorous and snappy

fingers used for thinking or

and confident, as if they like their

creating or art. But these fingers

jobs. They don’t remain idle for

have a sort of quiet power in

long, wanting to do something

them, something that sparks with

they want or try something new,

youth and vitality but just under

like an excited child. They are

the surface. The way they move

quite similar to my dad’s, which

reminds me of a willowy tree

are bigger and louder, perfect for

standing strong in a windstorm;

a handshake or a clap on the

although it may look weak in

shoulder that envelops you in a

comparison to other trees, it has a




Dorothy Babb

Adele Goldader

in each section of the fridge. The only thing disrupted the harmony is the apple left in the green section with a bite on it.

Somehow this refrigerator makes me feel strange despite its almost

Untitled By: Vico Wang

“

perfectly organized appearance.

After I close it and leave the house, I suddenly realize something. If you stand close

It’s not a common type of

enough, you will find that there’s

refrigerators you would see on the

no scratch, no fingerprints, or

market. Apparently it’s too small

even any traces of humans on the

to store food for a family yet too

refrigerator. It seems like no one

big for only one person to use.

has ever used it."

Covered in red paint, the refrigerator is placed in the middle of the kitchen, signifying its importance in this house.

There are a bunch of stickers and magnets on it: two colorful magnets saying “Good luck to you” on the left side of the refrigerator, a section from the newspaper talking about the horoscope of April, and interestingly a printed screenshot of the famous Fibonacci sequence. Food, beverages, and ingredients are arranged by colors

the land around me change. There

No matter how long I stare, I am

was once a time where even the

always amazed by the sky’s

slightest hardship warranted me

stunning and changing beauty.

to reach out for help from my

One of my other favorite

friends. If I felt a little hungry,

pastimes is to listen to the birds’

another tree was always willing to

songs. They have wonderful

send me some nitrogen through

voices, but they are also such

the roots. I never worried about

playful creatures. I actually enjoy

an insect attack, because I knew

watching most animals play…

someone else would warn me

except skunks, because they smell

et me start by saying that my

first. Yet, I have seen and felt

bad. (Don’t tell the skunks I said

senses are different than animal

these things change. I could feel

that, though; I don’t want to hurt

senses. I believe it is impossible to

the death of each tree in my

their feelings.) I also have a really

describe to someone a sense they

system. When my roots reach out

good relationship with my fungus

are unable to experience. Just as a

now, the response is significantly

friends. A good relationship with

human will never know what it is

smaller than it used to be. At least

the fungus is crucial because they

like to sense electrical currents

I still get a response. From my tall

bring me food to eat. The meals

like a shark, or how a blind man

position I can see a lot, yet I am

can be slightly repetitive, but

will never know what it is like to

in the largest forested area within

believe it or not I actually prefer

see, I cannot and will not ever

view site. When I look around

food with a bland taste.

know what human senses are

me, I see trees who are isolated

truly like. In return, humans can

and sur rounded by cement

I can’t imagine ever being inside

never know what my senses are

walkways. I worry about them all

and away from the fresh air. Air

like. Nonetheless, I will try my

alone out there.

and wind are a gift from Mother

A Tree’s Reflection By: Rebecca Wusinich

L

Nature herself and I’ll never

best to describe the things I have Sorry, I’m starting to sound all

understand why humans hide

negative now. My life as a tree is

from a big storm; I love storms

actually pretty nice. I spend a long

because they allow me to feel the

First of all, I have been around

part of every day watching the

wind against my body. If the wind

for a really long time. I’ve seen

sky, which is absolutely beautiful.

is really strong, my trunk will even

experienced in terms of human senses.

begin to rock. Swaying in the wind is a rare thrill after long weeks of standing nice and tall.

Overall, my life is good. There’s a certain rhythm to my days that allows me to appreciate my surroundings, and for that I’m grateful.

Sydney Bendesky

open, the man rests his attention

handbag for Valentine’s Day yet

on his frequented corner: the box

s h e ’s a s k i n g f o r a n o t h e r

of cold Budweisers. He fishes it

Balenciaga jacket for her birthday.

out just like he did yesterday and

Coupled with the fact that she has

the day before, then cuts off a

been nagging him about going on

slice of the apple pie that always

a trip to the Bahamas, the man

sits on the right hand side of the

realized that there’s less and less

fridge. There’s barely anything

money left in his pocket each

green or healthy inside the fridge,

month, and the travel plan might

it’s just overly sweet snacks

have to be put on an indefinite

t’s 12:00 PM again, the man

organized on different levels and

hiatus.

unplugs his headphones, gets up

corners as well as a dozen

from his seat and heads toward

Budweisers.

Untitled By: Jack Li

I

“Why am I not earning more?” the man frequently

the kitchen. $27.84 is the price of an

wonders. He’s already working

You can call him a creature of

apple pie now, which is up $4.56

under the inhumane “996”

habit, but that’s not exactly

from two weeks ago. In fact,

schedule: 12 hours a day from 9

correct either. It’s not that he’s

everything has become more

to 9, 6 days a week and goes out

just always hungry at this precise

expensive recently, even his

to drink just to please his boss, all

moment, but glancing at the little

favorite imported beer. Could it

this just to exchange for higher

blue clock and seeing the

be due to the trade war with

wages. This is also why his fridge

numbers “1” “1” “0” “0” lined up

America? Regardless, his salary

has almost no vegetables or raw

together just reminds him to

hasn’t gone up in five years. He

meat: he doesn’t have the time or

crave food and beverages. Being

has a picture of his beautiful

energy to cook. When he lies in

hungry is just another step in his

girlfriend made into a tiny magnet

bed he sometimes finds it difficult

unchanging daily routines, and

on his fridge, which he ordered

to breathe, as if something heavy

he’s slowly realizing it.

online a year ago. It’s difficult to

is about to crush his chest bones

keep up with her desires for

and pierce his dying lungs. He

Warm light illuminates the

luxury and consumption: he

takes a good minute sitting in bed

cold stove as the door swings

bought her an expensive Hérmes

when he wakes up just so that his

heartbeat can drop to regular

and saw that the man was in his

levels again. Everything about his

bed, resting peacefully. Even

life is unhealthy.

though his body has reached its limits, his mind was still racing.

But this is the best job

He’s smiling because his spirit is

that he could find, and therefore

truly free now, off to a better

the best life that he could live, as

world.

an average middle-class person in the overly-competitive city. He thinks about quitting and starting over again somewhere he will be treated humanely and paid better, but he realizes that this is just a daydream. Once he leaves this company, he knows that no company will want to hire a 35year-old without an MBA or a dazzling resume any more because they demand higher salaries but gradually have more problems with health so they can’t be as productive. The only future in store for the man is to stay where he is, and follow the exact same routine every single day.

The phone rang and rang but no one picked up. His coworkers decided to call the police, who broke into the door

Alexandra Wang




Alexandra Wang

Alexandra Wang

Fridge Magnets By: Tristan Szapary

time of day pierced the drawn

There was one singular magnet

shades into every fold of the

near the top of the fridge that

kitchen, only intensifying the

pinned one tiny clue, the type of

dreadful feeling that the house’s

hint that could only be found if

very foundation comprised of

you knew what to look for. A

one part concrete, two parts grief.

paper business card with a professional but eye-straining font

Lucy’s elbows dug into the

and cr umpled cor ners, the

granite island countertop as they

emblem of the nearby children’s

supported her slouching chin. She

hospital. Lucy wondered if

he kitchen’s dim blue cast did

stared into the void space

anyone in the recent flood of

nothing to uplift the mood of the

separating her from the 90s

guests had been nosy enough to

sullen brick house. It was that

model refrigerator that had to be

remove the cowering card hidden

particular time of day when the

bolted in the wall to keep it from

among the joyful noise of the rest

natural light from windows

crushing its users. If a curious

of the fridge and turn it around.

somehow darkened an entire

house guest were to spend a

They would find the number of a

room. The rays played with the

moment combing through the

certain Dr. Schwartz from the

eye so that couches, clocks, and

magnets on the fridge, they might

oncology department, written

lamps seemed to float just

believe they were visiting the

neatly so that not a single digit

millimeters above where they

happiest household in town. An

could be mistaken. The observant

actually stood, suspended in air

“Aloha from Waikiki Beach”, or

ones might realize that the

but chained close to the ground

the colorful amassing of letters

accuracy of this phone number

so that nothing floated away. The

spelling out “dog” “love” and

was vital to the stability of this

same time of day when an

maybe even a drawn-out “butt”,

suffocating family. Access to

unsuspecting visitor, no matter

or the township’s trash pickup

expedient, expert help was as

how previously joyful or light-

magnetic calendar, or a most

much as she could have done for

hearted, freezes in place upon

recent Christmas card, three

their son, they must understand.

entering the room and shifts to a

smiling school pictures with a sky

Above all, she had to believe her

more morbid state of mind. This

blue backdrop present a very clear

own words if she ever wanted to

shadowy light at this particular

image of a picture-perfect family.

recover from the loss.

T

Lucy stared at the fridge and

These magnets weren’t going to

his pale round face squeezed into a

avoided looking at his cheek-to-

let Lucy forget anything any time

rather large cut out of R2D2 at a local

cheek smile. Maybe in a year, or in

soon.

movie theatre in anticipation for newest

five, the opportunity to see his

Star Wars movie, looking off-screen,

freckled face and remember his

top cor ner dedicated to soccer

most likely at the concession stand

crackly voice would be a blessing.

tournament pictures - blue socks that go

rather than the camera lens, his taller

But right now looking back was

higher than the knee, clutching a

friend filling in the CP30 figure at his

not an option. Or rather, it

participation trophy that still meant the

side with a toothy smile

certainly was an option, and

world to him, local dad/sub-par coach

indeed an inevitable one since his

high-fiving mid-fielder in the back,

Lucy’s heart dropped and her

absence from Lucy’s life cut into

small bags of Doritos and pretzels (of

eyes gave in as the frail floodgates

every corner of her world. Yet it

course paired with a box of grape

she had set up to prevent any

was not a welcome one, not in the

Capri Suns), compliments of coach’s

thoughts of her dear little boy

slightest. She couldn’t help but

wife

from materializing disintegrated

find it curious that our first

fast and hard. She opened the

human instinct after losing a

colorful letters spelling out at most two-

fridge and pulled out what was

loved one is to expend all our

syllable words clustered near the bottom

left of one of the many pre-made

mental energy trying not to think

- the highest ones reaching about two

lasagnas from the local food

about it, which of course is a

thirds up the fridge, as high as he could

market that neighbors, friends,

losing battle. Brain regions tasked

stretch his skinny arms, spotted with

teachers, strangers had been so

with self-protection urges us to

bruises from the IV

kind to bring. She might not be

forget what is permanently gone,

hungry, but a few bites of warm

at least while the wound is fresh.

applaud, laundry, eclipse, snowflake

food would surely give her some

It seemed to her that by the time

among other words on the Week 4

strength.

we have started to heal and

spelling test, given out every Friday -

decided we are ready to honor

two chrome star stickers, which could be

These magnets were nothing

this fallen memory rather than

traded in for a treat once ten were

but pain at the moment. Violent

grieve, all we can do is hope and

collected, sitting happily next to the

stabs from the past designed to

pray that not a single of their

check plus plus at the top of the paper

hurt the already grieving. But they

precious little details dies as well.

won’t always be this bad, thought

Lucy, as she pressed the start button on the microwave. There will be a time where these magnets are all she’d have left of him and his tiny little ways. So she preserved the magnets on the front of the fridge because they preserved him.

“Primal Barbarism”

Dabin Seomun

A fat three-legged cat stalks as it yowls “Princess, let’s dance through the night” A pretty little daisy blooms on the gray wall The hungry worms devour it with vigorous might It’s a good day to sell the batch of flowers One by one, they get picked out The ugly ones remain as they weep with sorrow Nobody stops nor notices, or they pretend not to The bat hangs dead from a rotten branch His family now fights with a small snake “He promised me when he was alive” Alas, dead men tell no tales They mix it up and down, down and up Hold, hold, hold, and release They see the little plant spurt out of the small bump Where they have sprinkled their water upon They never wanted this They were fine being alone But what more can they do? Nobody even turns their heads or their eyes with sympathy

I rode this high happily

motion; my realization that I

through the end of my junior

couldn’t stop, my trying to swerve

year, driving to school every day

to avoid the car, a deafening bang,

and parking on 69th street,

a sudden and violent impact to

offering to drive friends anywhere

my chest, a moment of eerie

they needed to go, doing errands

quiet, then opening my eyes to an

for my family. I made driving

entirely new world. Dust glittered

playlists on my Spotify account,

ominously in the air as I felt my

kept meticulous track of my gas

face, which was remarkably

mileage and the number of miles

unblemished. I had a dull pain at

etting my driver’s license

I could get on each tank. I loved

the base of my neck, and the

was one of the happiest moments

driving - one of the places I felt

place where the airbag had hit my

of my life. The embarrassment of

the safest was behind the wheel

chest felt like I had been stomped

asking a parent to drive me to a

of the car, and I would often talk

on, but miraculously I seemed

date, waiting after school for 45

to my friends about my feelings

unhurt. I unbuckled my seatbelt,

minutes because my dad forgot

(something that is very hard for

which hung limp and useless after

that I come to his house on

me) through my car speakers on

my body had been flung against it

Wednesdays, vanished in the blink

my way home from school.

moments before, and pulled on

Licensed By: Thaddeus Bashaw

G

the door handle. I knew vaguely

of an eye, and I couldn’t believe it. I was stunned by how free I

However, this changed

what I was supposed to do; make

felt when I first reversed out of

drastically in June, when I

sure the people in the other car

my parent’s driveway, and for a

slammed into the back of a

were okay, something with

while I didn’t really know what to

minivan on City Avenue and

insurance cards, but I was

do with my new power. I

totaled my car. It was an overcast,

completely dazed and it took me

remember a few days after getting

muggy day, and I was on my way

several moments to realize that

my license, driving to Wawa to

to pick up a friend and take them

my door was not opening.

buy Sour Patch Kids, just because

to brunch, when a car in front of

I could. I was completely drunk

me stopped suddenly and I did

I pushed harder on my door,

on my newfound independence,

not react quickly enough. The

feeling metal pressing reluctantly

and it was fabulous.

events panned out in slow-

on metal, and eventually it gave,

spilling me onto the median of

She eyed me up and down. I

“Yes,” I said blandly, and

the street, where on the other

must have looked bizarre, a wild-

mechanically pulled my phone out

side, cars had begun to inch past

eyed 16-year-old in a Hawaiian

of my pocket and dialed.

the spot where my car sat. It

shirt, covered with airbag dust

seemed absurd to me that people

and shaking uncontrollably. “You

I remember very little of that

were continuing to drive: had they

sure you’re alright?” she asked,

phone conversation, and even less

not seen what had just happened

looking slightly concerned. “Your

of what happened afterwards,

to me? Remembering myself, I

car looks a little worse for wear

while waiting for the police to

hurried forward to see what had

there.”

arrive. I stood on the thin strip of

happened with the minivan. To

dying grass in the median, gazing

my horror, there were two little

I hadn’t yet noticed the damage

helplessly at my wrecked car,

kids, strapped into car seats in the

to my car, but once I looked, it

picturing my dad’s reaction when

backseat. The driver, a short and

held my gaze like, well, a car

I inevitably had to call and tell

kind woman in her late 30s, had

crash. A grotesque mass of

him what happened. Beyond my

gotten out and was surveying the

twisted metal and shattered glass

car and the minivan, traffic

damage to her car. Panicking, I

was all that remained of my left

continued to crawl by, people

hurried to her and started

headlight, and the airbag hung

looking eagerly out of their

sputtering apologies, asking if

limply from the steering wheel

windows to see what had

everyone was okay, and then

like a deflated balloon. I hadn’t

happened, and wincing upon

apologizing again.

noticed it before, but my car was

sight of my car’s mangled hood.

honking feebly, as if in protest of Quietly, she looked up and said

what had happened to it.

“It’s okay. It was a really sudden stop. Everyone’s okay in my car, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes of course, I’m fine, I’m just worried about you and your family,” I said in a rush.

Eventually, the police arrived, and everything seemed to move at

“You should call the police and

double time. The bureaucratic

report an accident,” the woman

concerns that had been briefly

said as I gazed at what had been,

expelled by shock and blunt force

mere moments ago, a perfectly

trauma came crashing down

functioning automobile.

around me once more. There was talk of insurance cards, of tickets, of license points. I dumbly

nodded and pretended to

rest of the world unconcernedly

understand what was going on,

continuing without me.

and didn’t even notice when the

Gradually and as necessity required, I returned to driving regularly, eventually chipping in to

policeman asked me to call my

I often have heard my mother,

help my dad buy a used car for

parent or guardian. He asked me

or other adults in my life talk

me, much to the outrage of my

again, rather impatiently, and I

about teenagers feeling invincible,

older brother, who had never had

hurriedly called my mom.

like they will live forever, or like

his own car. The school year

they simply cannot believe that

started again and nor malcy

After this point, my memory

any harm could befall them. I

returned, and though I was much

begins to play tricks on me. I

never really believed that until I

more cautious behind the wheel,

know that I moved my car slightly

felt the illusion lift from me, as I

my anxieties only manifested

down the road to be able to pull

watched the sad, lifeless corpse of

themselves in the occasional

to the shoulder. I remember being

my faithful Prius being dragged

panic-stricken, cold-sweat dream,

somewhat surprised that the gas

unceremoniously onto the back

always culminating in me sitting

pedal had absolutely no effect on

of the truck.

bolt upright in bed, my dogs gazing sleepily at my chalk-white

the car, and that it was gravity that enabled me to move it at all.

I didn’t drive for two months

After I limped the car around 30

after my accident. Part of that

yards down the street, the police

was due to the fact that I went on

officer decided to call a tow truck.

vacation to Europe for three

It was around this time that my

weeks, but the underlying reason

mom arrived, and after ensuring

was that I was scared. I had, even

that everyone was okay, I got in

if for only a moment, been

the front seat in her car and we

exposed to my own mortality. It

drove home. My mom insists that

was a humbling experience, to see

she had gotten to the site of the

myself as being as fragile as I

accident within 15 minutes, but it

truly am, and being aware that, no

felt like half the day had passed as

matter how much it might feel

I stood there on the median, the

like it, I am not invincible.

face.




Adele Goldader

Alexandra Wang

“Graves”

Liam Giszter

Not a trace Gotta find a way Keep the empty space Erased Nothing left to say Not a trace A painted face Your life story astray Keep the empty space The thoughts you chased Fleeing into day Not a trace If every breath was a waste As it seems it may Keep the empty space I’m tangled in your lace In the dirt you lay Not a trace If I can’t keep the empty space

Let go, cancelled, postponed

“16 Ways Of Looking At Quarantine”

We are alone yet together.

New, unpredictable, surprising We never know what's around the nearest corner

It gets dark at the same time

Blame, Hate, Accusing

and the hours rush by

We need to take our anger out somewhere.

slowly but so quickly as time repeats itself over and over again

This month has only felt meh

creating something that is real and yet is an

And don’t try to convince me that

illusion itself

This is something weird to occur Because if you take a look at my life,

Morning

It's only normal

Jeans, t-shirt, slippers, Bed hair

The clear scent of the spring air

Uniform

looms through my open windows, beckoning me, tempting me to follow.

We stand side by side

The world continues,

yet feet apart

while we stay stuck.

never been so separate yet connected more than ever

I flew like an egret from nearing winter

My friends aren’t there,

find a way to the South.

I have long hair that I cannot bear,

To find a shelter

but as I sit here and stare,

and a bird keeper.

I dream of the fun that will be had, when life is no longer sad.

Simple repetitive days Lack of motivation leads to unproductive ways

nobody understands really what life is about

Missing friends and missing school

the only one that understands... close to real

I miss life before corona ruled

by following its heart you would not expect

have you ever taken off your mask

it is the woodpecker aloud

just for a moment

listen carefully what you hear

and revelled in the sharp spring air?

knock knock knock Some days Among rows and rows of houses,

I feel like it's the best thing that's happened to me

the only thing moving is the wind of despair.

Other days

I feel like it'll never end I no longer stand by, I hope for the sun to rise, a cloudless night.

I hope the warm spring wind will arrive. though there is still light in the dark, I´m not sure why, I believe my summer dream will demise.

I´m like a lost seabird, far away from my native shore. when will it arrive? The wind that I adore.

Lion´s fight, eagle´s might. my dream will still demise.

Like a record player Singing for decades Suddenly Cease Lots of people in the family Stopping by Scrutiny Seeking for help Being stuck in a boring routine, thrown out the door to look at some green, buying toilet paper while making a scene, this is quarantine.

THE POETS: Zoe Alter, Terry Guerin, Sadie Forman, Lucca Fratone, Bente Gehler, Edward Lobel-Clark, Hope Lane, Niko Krontiris, Mira Levine, Charlie Liu, Jace Anderson, Lindsay McVail, Afreen Samuel, Sam Ya, Judy Zhu, Emmett Sun

was wrong. It was only little things.

room, but I don’t hear anything. I

I’d be sure I was paying attention,

just watch the green pulse of the

but on Zoom it looked like I was staring down at my phone. Or I’d catch myself tucking my hair

The Zoom Room By: Jade Halpern

better at reading lips. People tend to

behind my ears in the viewfinder,

think what she says is smart. My

but my bangs were still crowding

classmates write something nice to

my vision where I sat in my seat. I don’t really play with my hair. Or

A

microphone icon. Maybe if I got

maybe I do, or I started to, since I

me in the chat, or the Clapping Hands Reaction shows up in the

t first, I figured it was just lag.

was looking at my video feed so

corner of their screen. I texted a

Then, I thought I was getting

much. It makes you something

friend about what was happening.

confused about the mirroring of

self-conscious to see yourself like

the video. The way FlipGrid

that, I think. At least, it makes me

reverses the left/right in your

that way.

saw that some of my friends were

followed her instructions to wipe my hard drive and redownload the

video always confused me, so I figured Zoom was the same. I also

She told me, “That’s weird.” I

The differences did start to

app. My friend kept talking about

get bigger. I didn’t think they

“cookies.” It didn’t work. There I

would, but then they did. It’s never

was, grinning on the computer

quite what we predict. Or what I

screen no matter how much I

to all this technology. I mean, I

predict, at least. Maybe it’s what she

screamed in my chair.

don’t know why I tried fixing it

predicts. The little video she that’s

with the Green Screen thing, the

me. Anyway, I’d get up to shut my

easy these days). I had French class

door and come back to see myself

at 9:30. Madame emailed me at

still sitting in front of the camera.

10:00 to thank me for the valuable

She started talking eventually. I

contributions I’d made on Zoom,

don’t know what she says; Zoom

and to remind me, once again, to

insists the audio is coming from my

brush up on the subjunctive. I woke

using Virtual Backgrounds, so I checked to see if I’d accidentally turned that on. I’m not really used

problem wasn’t my background. It was myself.

Really, you wouldn’t even have noticed it at first. I think I watch my little icon too much, and even I wasn’t sure that anything

One time I overslept (that’s

up at 10:13. I think she’s more confident than me, this little Zoomself, and I guess that helps in French. Maybe it wouldn’t be so

pinpricks in my hands, like the tingle after my arms fall asleep. I sat at my desk again. The plastic chair

bad if it was just me. I mean, it

was cold. My laptop was dead. I

could just be me, but I can’t be

dragged my palm across the screen.

sure, right? That’s what’s hard

I closed my eyes. From behind the

about it. I wonder if that’s really my teacher I hear through the

red streaks I’d left, shimmering

speaker still, if it’s really my best

under the black glass, I was still

friend eating lunch in her beanbag

peering out, smiling like the devil

during class. I wonder if they’re on

herself.

their laptops too, watching this unfold, if they’re still there at all. I tried asking at first. I texted everybody to see if the same thing was happening to them. How are you supposed to ask someone whether or not they’re feeling like themselves these days? Everybody agreed that these are strange times.

I broke all the mirrors in my house.

Then I stood on the stoop, my little limit, where everything was six-feetaway still, and held out my arm. I let the shards of glass rain onto the concrete. They left bloody

I can get some fresh air, however

“My Quarantine Thoughts”

The feeling of wanting to stay inside

Jai Smith

Vs. being forced to stay inside, it’s a different feeling, which makes the whole idea of I am always busy

being home, not seem so great as when I was always

Whether it’s homework, sports, my

busy

outside activities I never really appreciated being outside

I was always busy Unfortunately, now I’m always bored

I never really appreciated being outside

But when this quarantine is over, without

I felt because I was always busy

a doubt I will have a much better appreciation for

Whenever I had the chance to stay inside

being outdoors on my first day out

I would always take that chance I would always take that chance Even when I was free and was able to go outside I decided to stay inside because I liked to have a break from my hectic schedule A break from my hectic schedule It’s a nice feeling It’s relaxing and chill but During this quarantine During this quarantine I gained a new appreciation for being outside I gained a new appreciation for my parents having jobs, a new appreciation for the life that I live A new appreciation for the life I live I’m still able to get my education, even though it can be annoying, and I'm still able to get easy access to places where I can exercise and I can get some fresh air

but they will only bring you

easily, like plasticine. You could

warm.

shape them whatever you want, and create anything with their

Hands By: Zach Zhai

M

My dad’s hands are thick and

flexibility. You can see infinite

small. They are small but strong,

possibilities from them: playing

with some stubborn cocoon on

piano, drawing, making origami,

his palms, like old rocks from soil.

and so many other things waiting

They always seem so weak, but it

for me to discover.

contains more power than you could imagine. You may think

y mom has two big hands,

rocks are less useful than knives,

with fingers long and swift.

but when you use a knife to cut

Mom’s hands are always cold for

rock, the knife would always

some reason, with nails sharp and

break. They are steady and

fine like knives. They are the kind

reliable, even small, when you

of knives that are sharp enough

hold them in your hand, you can

to protect from dangers and keep

feel the toughness, you know that

you safe, knives that could turn

they are unbreakable. They could

some ordinary pakchois and beef

also be rough sometime, when

into some beautiful dishes for

you rub his palms, the old cocoon

dinner. They are decisive and

will remind you of his

efficient, as if they will always

obsolescence, like a fossil coming

evolve with time, renew their

from the past that refuses to

shape into the most tartness kind,

change.

and never get blunt, never will become outdated. They might

My hands are long and soft,

seem harmful, but you learn how

and most importantly, very

helpful they are only when you

flexible. It’s mainly because I play

use them. The features are cold,

piano, all the practice has enabled them to change to any shape

“Those Eyes”

Max Marinelli

And how could he forget those eyes: A deepest blue and at once gray.

No matter how he tries and tries To capture them, they slip away.

He stares deep and she stares back, For this is the way they dance; All of his futures, she unpacks, With her ever-loving glance.

His mind’s a constant wanderer, ‘Til he slips into those lovely ponds.

He’s known he grew quite fond of her— But this is love, it’s far beyond.

And they fit her face perfectly, As if there was no other way.

She doesn’t speak, yet certainly, Those eyes assure him he’s okay.

my lilac colored curtains, I

t h e w i n d ow f r a m e we r e

could feel her gentle fingers

shaking, trembling under her

graze my neck, with intentions

touch. As I began to slowly

to make me turn around and

turn back around to my

look to the window which my

disorganized desk, covered in

b a c k w a s c o l d l y f a c i n g.

inches of paper, in loads upon

Choosing to ignore her, I

loads of ink forming the

looked back at my computer

shapes of letters, I felt her

Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune

screen, ‘Writers’ block will be

strike my nose. I had been hit.

the death of me,’ I thought.

Hit with a fist of air, the light

‘

And there it was again, but this

changed, I could smell the

time with a bit more force. The

dandelions, off her wrist, the

wind’s gentle, yet firm hand

grass on her translucent skin.

taking some of my curly hair,

The air shifted, and I found

and looping it around her

myself within a few seconds

fingers, pulling it in the

running downstairs, rushing to

direction of the window. Softly

the backdoor of my house, no

tugging on my hair, I could

longer caring to wait another

hear her voice, smell the rose

day to go outside. Ripping the

petals on her breath. And there

door open, I was greeted with

it was, the voice, nothing could

the most joyous of hugs from

better describe her voice other

non-other than she.

Dorothy Babb

By: Anonymous

This, is new.’ I thought,

‘Surely, the window was not left open before I had started working on the novel.’ It was a soft, breezy day today, the gentle winds were drafting in the faint scent of strawberries, the wall in front of me was slowly turning from a dark blue to a baby blue hue. Taking my glasses off, I noticed how tired I was, I had been working on an important paper, granted it was the beginning of summer break, I needed to get everything done. Today should have been just another day of me getting work done, yet something was amiss.

Out of nowhere, I heard the wind’s gentle sigh blow through

t h a n s ay i n g i t c o n s i s t e d completely of a symphony of music.

Looking around, I saw how alive everything was. The trees were such a green, emerald, I

It was a simple word anyone

do not think I will ever see any

can say without much

painter nor artist be able to

concentration, yet her alone

replicate such vivid greens.

saying it, gave me enough

Everything was breathing, in

shock to turn around. “Come.”

and out, and I was the most

Turning around in shock, I saw

privileged being to inhale such

nothing but a bright and empty

sweet nectars of scents. She

room, the curtains surrounding

was wearing the sky’s joy as a

dress, wearing the freshest

melted as I continued to hold

flute? But how unusual the flute

flowers as her bracelets, the

her slightly chilly hands.

was, for only a few notes into

stars as her necklace, and I

Everywhere she stepped, the

its piece and I was already

immediately felt inferior, for as

ground would glow, the tiny

convinced it was a piece of

beautiful as she was, I was in my

flowers of red, blue and pink,

admiration of some kind.

nightgown, feet as bare as a

would all rise, as though to

Turning my head, I noticed I

bobcat. Yet as embarrassed as I

catch her falling feet. Making

was no longer in the same spot.

felt, nothing could make me feel

sure her soles had a

I had closed my eyes too. The

more secure than her smile, so

comfortable meeting with the

wind was gone, leaving one of

warm and bright. Not nearly as

ground. Smiling to myself, I

her flower chain bracelets

bright and fierce as the sun, but

closed my eyes and took a deep

behind, and I was alone to

more admirable than the moon

breath. Letting all of her scents

myself. With no one for

that I spent so much time

waft into my nose, but there

company’s sake but the solo

adoring at night.Wasting no

was nothing alarming about it

flute. It was so enchanting, but

time, I let her take me by the

whatsoever. There was the scent

soon, I could hear it growing

hand. The grass was dancing

of sweet, crisp, green grass, still

faint, and fainter, as though the

amongst her heels, her laughter

wet from the early morning

player were walking away, but

echoed through the trees. After

dew. The aroma of ruby red

there were no footsteps to be

taking a few steps forward, I

roses, fragrant and blush,

heard whatsoever. Slowly, but

found myself looking back,

growing more and more rosy as

surely, the sugary music was

looking behind.

the sun continued to rise higher.

nearly completely g one,

The smell of baby’s breath, of

vanishing over the trees and far

I could only see the tip of

freshly cut bark, cedar wood, an

away. Not wanting to hesitate

the roof of my house. The

old oak tree, and then there was

any longer, I felt my feet take

thick trees green were already

that free sound.

flight once more and my hands work with their arms to comb

shielding all corners of my house, I could no longer see the

Opening my eyes slowly, taking

through the thick patches of

color of its bricks. There was

a slight break from smelling her,

bush. Going through the

no fear though, anything even

I heard it again. The gentle coo

mighty jungle that was this tiny

remotely similar to that of fear

from what sounded like... a

forest to find where the

mischievous flute was coming

various hairstyles, from buns to

through them, only wanting to

from.

ponytails. Each was laughing at

hear more of the honey that

each other and lying in the

was his music. That boy’s music,

My ears on high alert,

g rass, yet it was not as

I know it was his. The next

ignoring the wind’s clawlike

astonishing, as beautiful as they

moment, I forever shall curse

gestures, and playful nudges, I

were, compared to the men.

myself for.

stumbled around the forest,

The music makers were all men,

very soon hearing the sounds

of various body types, different

of not just one flute, but an

colors.

entire orchestra of music. It was

I was so caught on, so in the middle of euphoria, that I did not notice my fingers slipping,

coming just beyond two large

From deep browns, to

losing their grip on the sharp

bushes, slowly, with both hands,

dazzling tans. None of them

bush. My feet had lost their

pushing the bushes apart, the

were lighter than tan though,

footing as well. I fell forward, I

wind at its strongest, I saw

and all were either very bulky, to

could feel the wind attempting

beauty I don’t think my eyes will

lean. Yet all were incredibly

to catch me in her non-existent

ever be so graced as to witness

handsome and played some sort

arms, I was anticipating to be

ever again. There, was a

of instrument. From stringed to

caught by the grass, but instead,

clearing, with soft looking grass,

wind. All were playing together

I met warmth. I could smell

and a small waterfall with a tiny

in an enchanting orchestra,

sweat mixed with the nectar of

pond in the middle. The falling

none missing a beat, none

various flowers from lilies to

water looked like tiny cuts of

taking a moment to look my

honeysuckle that lingered on

gems landing into soluble glass.

way either. And there was one,

the arms of this person, I felt

In the clearing, surrounding the

with the curliest and darkest

my eyes linger downwards, and

pond and waterfall were around

mop of hair I had ever seen,

instead of seeing feet, I saw

20 beautiful tall, slender, flaxen

standing in the center, back

hairy legs, and hooves. Like that

haired women. With white,

facing to me, playing something

of a goat, a white haired goat.

long, satin looking dresses.

so passionately, so devoted. It

Looking back upwards I made

Each had a different styled set

made my fingers instinctively

eye contact, looking into the

of sleeves. Their hair was at

curl around the bush, not

deepest set of brown eyes I had

different lengths, all made in

noticing the large thorns cutting

ever seen. So dark they were,

darker than any of the tastiest

and then looking behind, to see

chestnut I had ever befallen on.

her waving back at me, smiling

More full than any of the

with such a big grin. As we kept

harvest moons to date. I could

walking, the sun continued to

feel the instant blood rushing

set, I found myself becoming

from my heart to my cheeks

more and more heavy, the sense

and he smiled at me, his

of being tired reaching my feet

eyebrows were large and as dark

faster than anything else. And as

as his hair. Grabbing a hold of

I began to fall asleep in the

his arms, I tried separating

boy’s arms, I woke up to a rising

myself from his grasp, wanting

sun, in my quiet room. My

to immediately go back home,

room of strawberries, grass, and

wanting no more of this, but

now lilies and honeysuckle.

then I felt the sensation of

‘What an amazing adventure of a

pushing, and I turned to see

dream...’

Emmet Sun

her. Everyone was watching as well, whispering things to each other in a strange and foreign tongue, unknown to me. And she was on the other side, all alone to herself now.

My one and only friend, the wind, with such a sad smile on her face, the sun’s sunset making her tears gleam like gold, she was pushing me forward, into the boy. Edging me to go on, taking the boy’s hand, I walked on, every now

Emmet Sun

“The Somber Lamb and the Innocent Wolf ” Dabin Seomun

The deed is done swift. Silent. Cleaning its claws, The misty black wolf in sheep’s clothing snarls At its prey as they thrash, flee, and run from them.

On the wolf ’s back sits a little lamb who wears the skull of a wolf.

Blood drips from the wolf and he lashes out. Alas, His tantrum is stopped by a snowy lamb as she takes The thumping heart from the wolf ’s canines, Then gracefully and softly squeezes the life out of it.

The hunt is forever, and the wolf is pleased.

The more pleasure he feels when his victims try to escape them.

But when their victims are willing to embrace them The little lamb mercifully does the deed instead.

But since everything must meet them, everything shunned them Feared them, hated them, and longed for their demise.

And even those who reached out to them only faded away by their tooth and nail.

Thus, they were so lonely that they promised never to be apart.

Black and white mixed into a murky unpleasant grey lurks the world Seeking its next target that is fated to meet with them. But sometimes The colors shine with grace and love. After all, They also grant true, indiscriminate ends to everything.

Never alone Without the other.

Together they shall pursue Their eternal hunt, their murderous duty, and their everlasting hunt.

casts a shadow on not just the

of individual struggles. By losing

United States but humanity as a

these interactions we have lost

whole, it is of great importance to

something incredibly precious. In

look for that light.

this expansive storm cloud, it is hard to find the light. Instead of

The world has faced crises of

taking the time to look, people

great magnitude before, most

instinctively rush into the safety

notably the World Wars. What

of their own homes, with the plan

differs between how we confront

of not looking upwards until the

a war and a pandemic is the one

storm has passed. Yet it is those

hen darkness falls on a

characteristic that makes us

who do look up to see the light

cloudy day, it is natural to look up.

human, that makes a society a

who will be remembered, it is

Yet as soon as someone sees a

society, the thing that many of us

they who are lessening the strain

grey storm cloud that seemingly

have previously taken for granted:

on humanity, who are magnifying

spreads across the whole sky, it is

physical interaction. In times of

the light and reminding us of the

natural to look away. If they were

war, people have sought relief

human potential.

to keep looking into the horizon,

from their emotions through

however, if they were to gaze

gathering with their friends,

In one of his wartime speeches,

over the expansive land towards

families, and neighbors. Towns

Prime Minister Churchill said,

the corners of the world, if they

organized events so citizens could

"Never was so much owed by so

were to search for just a moment

come together to partake in

many to so few". This holds in

over the vast plain of the sky,

activities that helped thin the

our current times once again. As

they would see the light breaking

foggy gloom. Now, as people are

most people must take shelter in

through like water in a cracked

quarantined, this is impossible.

their houses with the hopes of

ceiling. T hey would see a

No longer can towns host events

limiting the vir us’ spread,

fluorescent outline. In a time like

to lighten the mood, no longer

healthcare workers, ser vice-

this, people tend to look at just

can neighbors and friends

people, and leaders are doing their

the grey, entirely missing the

comfort each other with hugs and

best to help the outcome of this

gleam of the rebellious light

warmth, no longer can

pandemic. Moments like this

breaking through. As COVID-19

communities share the burdens

bring out the best of people.

The Streets Of Heaven By: Dev Gupta

W

Health care workers rush in to

fill our hospitals and homes with

help others at the expense of

hope, a chance to strive. Some

their own safety. They run into

have even given what Lincoln

places where people are sick and

called “the last full measure of

they fight for every life. Many of

devotion”, their light to kindle the

these workers have families at

flame of others.

home, families they can not see without putting them at risk,

So those who take a moment

families they love. These are the

to look up at the light, to view the

people who radiate the most

heavens, will see that the streets

revealing, the most powerful, and

of heaven are full and the path

the most meaningful light. These

ahead is illuminated. This path is

workers, and humanity as a whole,

of friendship, love, community,

are going up against something

and teamwork. It will allow us to

that seems invincible yet they do

work through our differences and

not flinch. Even with this

to turn this tragedy into

daunting task, they have managed

something amazing, a chance to

to slow the virus and change the

unify. No matter how gray the

world at the same time. ”[E]very

cloud, you can still see a rainbow.

time we think we have measured

Take a moment to look up. See

our capacity to meet a challenge,

how bright the light from above

we look up and we’re reminded

really is.

that that capacity may well be limitless”(The West Wing). They look up - up to the light and even beyond it. They look to the blue beyond the gray and the stars beyond that. Healthcare workers, medical students, and the good Samaritans of our communities

 

Fotini Mourelatos

Adele Goldader

Fotini Mourelatos

“I Dream That’s Why We Are Divided” Max Marinelli

I know a lot but I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel inside right now: When the present world is full of gloom, And the only end in sight is doom.

It’s curious that when I’m grounded, My mind’s runway is soon surrounded By dreams for a day’s return again, Yet never for points that I ascend.

It’s caught the world amidst a pause, Though not for a triumphal cause— Our cry a whimper, fading out, For minds have been clouded by doubt; It’s brought new volume, definition, Shown separation to be our mission, Still, half of us are undecided— I dream that’s why we are divided.

While antidotes may arrive in years, The honest cure falls upon deaf ears; If selflessness rings quite familiar, That world’s not ours, not even similar. .

My Name By: Zach Zhai

I

aurora high above the sky, or

traditions were considered to be

something from ancient books

useless and outdated, everything

and have some very complicated

needs to be “renewed”. These old

connotations like benevolence or

patterns were of course

zen. At the end of the day,

encouraged to be removed, and

dreams are still dreams, I feel like

unwillingly, my g randfather

I never seriously think of

changed his middle name to Peng,

changing my name. I never liked

the name of a huge eagle from

it, but it's still my name.

the myth that forever lives in the sky. He then named his children,

never liked my name. My first

Dad once told me this story

my dad and my aunt both by

name ⻘青Qing in Chinese means a

of our names when I brought up

things that belong to the sky, Lei

color mixed with green and blue.

my dissatisfaction with my name.

the thunder and Yu the rains, as a

The color of pure jade that

In the past, that is when my

way to succeed the genealogy

goddess used to scrape the sky in

grandfather was young. We were

without the middle names in

Chinese myths, the color of a

still following our genealogy to

pattern. My father was going to

small pond in summer that

pick the middle names for the

name me Xing which means the

reflects the blue from the sky and

next generation, that being said,

stars in order keep the heritage of

has green algae underneath, the

every generations’ middle name

the “sky”, but with my last name

color Claude Monet used the

has to follow a certain pattern

Zhai, it sounds the same as

most in his painting Water Lilies

created by the ancestry of the

another word Zaixing, calamity.

and Japanese Bridge, the color of

family hundreds years ago. In the

Since calamity is too awful to be a

restfulness in traditional Chinese

family of Zhai, the pattern was a

name, my mom then suggested

painting. It’s the most beautiful

poem written by an ancestor, and

using another word that sounds

color, but it's just a color, and it’s

all the middle names have to be

similar, Qing, the color that

too simple for a name.

picked from that poem. My

comes from blue the color of the

grandfather used to have the

sky, and that eventually became

I used to dream to change my

middle name Tian which means

my first name.

name to something more

the sky, but during the time of

meaningful, like nebula and

Cultural revolution, all old

“But Qing never belongs to the sky!” I argued.

“Then, you are the falling star from the sky.” Dad replied with a smile.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the words, the falling star from the sky, the falling star……

Roi Hananel

“Untitled” Ben Nie

On a clear night The birds and the fish are not moving That round of moonlight is soaked in the deep river water Is it their dream or is it my dream At this moment My body and mind are clear Except for the piano in the boat There is no harassment of anything I sit alone The seven silver strings on the piano are my most intimate friends And my both ears are his bosom friends When the tranquil and natural voice melts into the sea of mind The whole world is eternal and beautiful.

Who knows When is ancient When is now

the straps digging into my skin til

You leave soon, and you cry to

I bleed. It hurts to know that I’m

me that you don’t want to go. I

the reason you’re like this, the

can’t help you, I can’t save you,

reason you can’t trust. It hurts, it

and we both know it. But we’re

hurts, it hurts. But my hurt

selfish people, so you come to

doesn't matter, does it? It doesn’t

me and I can’t push you away. We

matter, and I don’t matter. Oh

spent that last night tangled up in

but you my dear, you matter. My

each other, so close yet still too

light, my star, my dawn, you are

far. Dawn will come to whisk you

more important than you realize.

away soon, my moon. You stare

t’s almost too easy. The way

Not just to me, never just to me.

into me, where no other can go.

your face crumbles, your body

You’ll never be mine, not when

You worm your way into my

shakes, your eyes water. It’s

you have the world within your

heart, and it only beats for you.

almost expected, the way you

hands. It hurts that these are the

But you cannot have it, and I

react. I shouldn't know to the

paths we must walk.

cannot have yours. You know

Starlight By: Elisabeth Forsyth

I

this now, know why I push you

second how you react to being hurt, I shouldn’t know how to

You are the most important

away. You’re angry, I can see it in

hurt you so. You shouldn’t be so

thing in my life, and I’m a selfish

your eyes, but you know you

predictable to me. I suppose I’m

person. I shouldn’t even be

can’t dwell on it. You know why I

no better, am I? The mask I wear

around you, but you’re like a

didn’t tell you. My pearl, you

is cracked and worn, but damn it

drug. One taste and I’m gone,

shine in the moonlight of our

still holds. You know the instant

one look and I’m spiraling. I’m

last moments, and you cry. I cry

I put it back on, the moment I

amazed I’m not dead yet, but I

too, knowing this is the last I’ll

hide again. I see it in the way

suppose it’s probably your doing.

see of you, and I hold you

your eyes glint, your shoulders

You shouldn’t care about me

tighter.

tense. You know me as well as I

starlight, you’ll only get burned,

know you, but here we are again.

don’t you see? We aren’t meant to

They take you away in the

be, no matter how you wish it.

morning, but you do not fight. I

It hurts you know? It hurts to

You must be alone, or we’re all

see the fire in your eyes go out,

hurt you. It hurts to have to

doomed. But still here I am

and I know mine are the same.

place my mask on day after day,

tempting you, and I’m sorry.

You walk away from me, the very

picture of a queen, and you do not turn back. You do not glance back at me, and I know why. I see you off, but we don’t look at each other. And once you’re gone, I go to our stone. I see your carriage ascending, and I smile. I’m still smiling when they find me, broken and battered at the bottom of the river, missing for 3 weeks. I’m still smiling when they put me in the ground, the farthest I can be from you.

I’m still smiling when I see you again, eons later, as you cut me down in the name of your king. I smile when you look me in the face, see who you damned, and cry. I smile as I leave your arms, as the fire begins to lick at my feet. I cry only when I look up and see nothing but darkness and flame, and finally accept my fate.

Fotini Mourelatos

I never left and why some things

“I Wonder Why...”

Never really happen, but not

Max Marinelli

For me; it is beyond me.

I wonder why we never left. And I wonder Why some things never really happen.

I wonder why we can’t remember What we need to forget. And I Wonder who decides which things Are just things and which are far more.

I wonder why the right decision doesn’t Always yield the correct answer. And I Wonder why you can’t change a person For the better, at least not forcefully.

And I wonder why no amount of Convincing can fix ignorance.

I wonder why the more I learn the Less I understand and why happy Memories now make me depressed.

And I wonder why music takes over my Mood, and why we can’t force ourselves To be happy, but we can choose to be sad.

I wonder why you can’t be at the top of The world without the looming fear of The inevitable freefall back to reality.

And I wonder why we argue to win; It is no wonder that we don’t Grow from our insecurities I wonder why we still Believe in fate but not in curses.

And I wonder why we are often saved By accident and why people with the least Are most willing to share it all. I wonder why We can touch another without reaching out a Hand, and how we can kiss without our lips, And how we speak the loudest with shut Mouths. Over and over I wonder why

this weird gap, and I’m not sure why. Honestly, the age gap between me and his family is so big that it feels like the distance between the sun and Pluto. It creates a chilling atmosphere, it’s

Smoke And Wrinkles By: Colleen Crowley

T

so unnerving and makes any c o n v e r s a t i o n s r e a l l y. . . uncomfortable. Most of the time, I try to avoid him if I can. The

here is this one person I

gap makes it extremely hard to

have seen around in my

relate to him and it doesn’t help

neighborhood. His name is

that I am not good with

Bryan. He is about the age of my

conversations. Any small talk with

parents, probably older. He has

him is just odd, it feels like a

grey hair like a storm cloud. His

family member you don’t know

skin is wrinkled and almost a

about shows up and talks like you

pasty pale. He always smokes on

have known them forever. It can

the front porch, you can always

be kind of creepy. It doesn’t help

smell it when walking by.

that I don’t really like doing that

Sometimes, I see him around here

with people I don’t really know. I

and there with his family.

wonder what he is actually like. Is

Whenever I do see him, I only say

he kind? Or is he malicious? I

hello. He has about 3 kids and all

only see small portions of his life,

of them are much older than I

what is behind those curtains of

am. His daughters are already in

age. I wonder why it feels weird

college and I see them visit him.

when I talk to people older than

Only thing is, that is all I really

me. Weird. Weird. Weird.

know about him. I can’t connect to him whatsoever because of

As I open the fridge, a jar falls

Even if that meant getting sick, I

from a shelf and shatters on the

decided to eat the marmalade off

ground.

of the floor.

“Well, there goes my marmalade,” I say to myself.

Marmalade By: Eric-Ross McLaren

I

I start, ready to prepare another meal for myself, but I stop in my tracks.

walk into the kitchen, desiring

only one thing: bread with jam.

“Hmm, the marmalade is only on

There are many foods in the

the floor.”

world that I enjoy eating. But there is only one thing that I

I turn back towards the

usually eat when desiring

marmalade, preparing myself to

sustenance, which is bread with

scoop the marmalade off the

jam.

ground and onto my slice of toast. Hovering above the

The kitchen is very stylish. It

shattered glass and dispersed

resembles the Victorian era, with

marmalade, I began to rethink my

black and white tiled floors. You

previous intent.

could say that my house is well, very “homey”.

What if I got sick? What if there’s a piece of glass in it? What if the

I walk over to the fridge in search

dog tracked mud on the floor?

of a jar of marmalade.

The possibilities are endless.




Fotini Mourelatos

Dorothy Babb

Jade Halpern and Thea Volpp

“The Woman with the Red Laced Boots” Roma LoGiurato

A heart of gold they say she has the woman with the red laced boots and without a face she lost her place

She walked with a purpose

the woman with the red lace boot

with fire in her eyes

the woman with the red laced boots

Her children hungry,

Not scarlet or pink, not

They ache and pout

brown or turquoise,

the woman with the red lace boot

Nor even Black, or green

She’s a woman with red laced boots

Don’t you worry

Don’t you cry

She’s mysterious, and quite serious

I’ll share some bread

the woman with the red laced boots

Miss lady with the pretty laces on your boot

With three children and

She gives a smile

lawyer suits

And stays for a while

the woman with the red laced boots

the woman with the red laced boots

She had a posse she’d called them friends

Learn and grow

the women with the red laced boots

Watch and know

Next time you see her

They broke her heart and left her none

Lend a hand to your

the women with the red laced boots

the woman with the red laced boots

“Untitled”

Evan Sweitzer

August is time for caring again and asking your August friends If they’ve been as good with summer reading as

January friends are the friends who keep your heart

you have

warm

We have to hang out before school starts

It’s weird when you stick an arm outside and feel

the mugginess

Back again.

Your January friends are no longer needed

Small-talk September

How was your summer oh I was in the hospital hm

February friends are Tuesday friends.

lolz oh right mh hmm

There’s really no precedent for having no breaks

Except to celebrate the Presidents.

Whenever someone says “Trick or Treat?”

March friends are the Friday night crowd

I want to say

They’re new friends before the soil thickens

“Trick.”

With the cool rain.

November friends are Thursday friends, Thursday

The shoes of April friends come in handy

morning; afternoon is the break.

When yours are wet

And school hits again like hell on Friday morning

They always fit and never give you blisters.

but it’s Friday

So only a couple more weeks till the weekend

May friends are for walks and talks

And wading into the water then gliding back

New Year’s holding a friend tightly

From deep to shallow

Is like watching the sun set on Sunday night.

Together, forward.

June friends are the ones who stick around Or the new ones whose addresses you write on a piece of paper Which sticks around in your drawer

Recall in July when you smirked as your friend’s mom Slathered sunscreen all over him and then because you’re So grown up she let you do it yourself and you pretended to and got sunburned

Zach Zhai

Home By: Zach Zhai

messy piles of clothes left

day. One day finally, with the

unfolded on the sofa ever since

summer rain pouring outside the

mom moved out, the wooden

window, mom came into the

table with a basin of eastern

living room and said in stillness

daffodils in the living room, and

that she wanted to separate. That

the stale piece of Chinese

day the house was shrouded in

calligraphy collected by dad on

the dark under the clouds.

the wall, all soft. In spring, the house will be filled with the smell

I soon started to travel

of daffodils mixed with

from one house to another

live in a house on Orchid

Osmanthus in the garden, and

ceaselessly every other week ever

Road that has only one floor with

dad will sing the old ballads in

since that day. From dad’s house

a big backyard. It is a house

some cozy afternoon. There was a

to mom’s, separates my life into

always filled with light, not strong

time everything in the house just

two different parts. I used to

but tender light, no matter in the

rested comfortably beneath the

dream to live in one big house

morning or afternoon. It’s mostly

sunlight, but nothing lasts forever.

with all my grandparents and

because there are too many big

Even the most beautiful flower

cousins, a big family together

windows in my house, when you

would fade and wind would soon

squeezed tightly under the same

wake up at 10:00 am in the

carry out the smell, and the

roof. You can always hear the

summer you’ll find a trace of light

softest part of your heart would

laughter from the living room, the

shining through the pine outside

become hard as rock from then.

elders would sit around the dining

the window and dropping softly

It was the confrontation of

table for hot pot and keep

onto your feet, soothing every

silence. There weren’t many

chattering and chattering, the

part of your skin. I sometimes

quarrels and arguments, each day

youths will have to wait

feel like my house would still be

they just talked less and less to

impatiently until the elders take

this bright even if it’s cloudy as if

each other, and mom started to

their first bites and then can start

the wooden floor would glimmer

spend the nights out more often.

to eat, just like the way any other

itself. There seems to be a soft

You could feel the emptiness in

Chinese family would normally

touch everywhere in my house,

their hearts as if the house is just

do, but here I am all alone at this

the wallpaper with mottled yellow,

getting colder and colder each

new place that I don’t recognize.

I

Mom’s house is quite

others away. In the new house

different, the floors are made of

there’s a new way of living, as I

ceramic tiles, all the furniture

soon started to learn playing

tends to be white, gray and black.

piano, I have to learn how to do

It is a bigger house, with wider

almost everything by myself. I did

space, higher roof, and more

have some very good memories in

rooms, but it seems to me that

this new house, but it just never

the sofas sitting in the big living

would be the same home that I

room are so alone with a feeling

once had.

of emptiness.There are still many windows in the house, but every

I still go to my dad’s house

time sunlight comes in the thick

every other week, but with

glass seems to reflect the light

different feelings than before. The

back out and never containing it

house and dad ever stay the same,

in the room. There are few

I’m the one changing. I know I

western abstract paintings on the

would only walk farther and

wall of the porch, colors and

farther away from that younger

figures distorted unnaturally,

self. As I hover back and forth

giving me a strange feeling of

between two houses ceaselessly,

loss, as if something is missing

there’s always a sense of not

from the painting. Mom has a

belonging as if some parts of my

cactus stand lonely in the corner

memories are missing. It is the

of the living room. It has a thick

feeling of family that I miss, I

body with thorns all over the

later realized.

place, no smell, no touch, not even worth looking at. But it’s strong, Mom said solemnly. It could live in the desert for months without a single drop of water, and it grows thorns to keep

“What is Home?”

Roma LoGiurato

Home is a place of solidarity Home is where the meatballs cook and the love is endless

Home is ramen slowly cooking

“Home is where the heart is”(Gaius Plinius

Home is cats, dogs, and animals of all sorts

Secundus)

Home is tight spaces and big rooms Under a bed, on a couch A big loud family up and about

Home is playing video games by the fireplace K-pop blasting, dancing and all sorts of food Everyone's mad or in a good mood Ooh dinnertime, where's the food?

At Home everyone’s family At home, friends are caring At home, the monsters go away

Hugs and cookies fill the night Home is circles of salt and a fandom of many Home is a protection from the darkness of the world

At home, athletes are getting rest At home epic stories of adventures are told At home, someone yells“get off your back LoGiuratah” and “It’s out there LoGiuratah, you gotta go get it”

“She Who Makes the Clocks Tick” Dabin Seomun

The lonely fool hugs her clockwork close to her shivering claws as the machine ticks each time she takes one step on the very thin yet very long wire of string.

She continues her way towards her destination which has no end or perhaps it has an end.

It’s just too long for anybody, even herself to even see when her journey would finish.

But without regrets, without hesitation she continues the lonely path of hers.

Is this duty or is this an impulse?

But what matters is that she never rests. And as each of her small footsteps cause ripples throughout the cosmos that grows dimmer by each step, she tears down the highest mountains, she razes the flourishing kingdoms.

Even stars explode and burn black, then fade to nothing.

But, as much as she is the reason of all ends, she is the reason for all beginnings and everything in between.

She helps gravity pull clumps of magic dust to create a planet, she urges the chick to break their own world and step into a wider one.

Children ripe into young and beautiful creatures and the innocent blue sky dyes with a powerful dose of red, orange, and gold. Snakes swallow beads of energy and ascend into the sky in it’s full fledged form of a dragon.

“And As I Sit Here” Max Marinelli

And as I sit here Upon this gravel overlook I peer out, a gaze falling Unto the mountains great green.

And as I sit here, Legs dangling over the only guards shielding the void from I, The murky rivers of my mind are cleansed as Life's new perspective explodes from thought's geysers.

And as I sit here, I now know what a treasure I seek; Oh how simple it is, for a nature's scene to embark forever In our minds, where everyday things are so easily forgotten.

left.

In fact, Seymour was

probably happy that Sally kept having twins, because it made her keep asking him to come back and try again. enough.

She was done with

having to drop her babies out of

Untitled By: Lydia Russell

“

Sally had had

the tree and leave them to die every time.

She was done with

cr ying her mating call for Shit,” Sally thought to herself.

Seymour and fueling his hyper

She could feel it, she was going to

masculinity.

have twins...again. In thirteen year

feeling inadequate for not being

of mating with Seymour, they had

able to succeed as a mother. This

twins every single time.

The

time, she would do what no sloth

added up to 26 children that Sally

had done before: she would raise

never got a chance to care for.

her twins. Once Sally resolved to

She cursed herself for being a

do this she knew her life would

sloth; if she were a bird or a dog,

never be the same. What she did

or literally any other species, even

not foresee, however, was that she

a human, she could have had

would completely revolutionize

twins no problem. Unfortunately

the process of child bearing and

for Sally, she was stuck being a

rearing for all of sloths for the

sloth, and couldn’t carry and raise

rest of eternity.

more than one baby on her back at once.

What was even more

frustrating was that this didn’t bother Seymour in the slightest.

Every year he arrived at her tree, enjoyed the sex, and promptly

She was done with

are for now without status or power, just waiting in stalemate until a threat appears and weakness to be dealt with. I work until late when we finally return back to darkness, but I enter a

Aquarium By: Aiden McLean

I

light sleep, always weary, always ready for a possible and ever real threat. This is the life we live in, in our little world. Our minds are

wake up and move down

kept stimulated by maintenance

and g reet the rest of my

but we can see more. Just out of

neighbors to another good

our reach I can see it, a larger

morning. Shortly I head up for

world, empty to all but a few.

breakfast before we all scatter

How I want to enter that world,

from each other. Each one doing

how we all do, but we are trapped

their own thing, occasionally

in our box, and yet it is our prison

meeting up with others to discuss

which protects us from all of the

the going ons in our world and

threats in the larger world outside.

we all do the same thing to maintain our homes and our lives.

Our minds are fixated on one thing at a time until we are satisfied and move on to the next.

I pass by some of my companions, but head with the usual ones that I am forced to stay with. We all have become paranoid about each other and always stay a distance apart. We

“It’s All a Peaceful Sight from Distance” Max Marinelli

I’m starting to miss— miss a lot, And not just in a checklist way.

It floats to friends near forgot, Wades through deep water’s gray; It slips away to faded red beach pals, Through reeds to riches long untold.

And as disease of mind allows, Once stable minds have quick been sold.

Fears lay atop my mind which seldom cross The gloomiest of everyday days.

And things which last could not be lost Have suddenly slipped out my gaze.

It’s all a peaceful sight from distance, For we all expect it overblown.

How can contempt breed coexistence?

It’s tragic true grief hides unknown.

Yun Tai By: Zach Zhai

T

each dynasty that has the name of

It was in the winter, for some

every Taoist priest of the temple

r e a s o n e ve r y t h i n g t e r r i b l e

on them, and the earliest one is

happened in winter. I was woken

from Ming. Behind the yard is the

up by the loud noises outside

lake of Yun Tai, it has the water

from the streets, people were

that forever rests in solemn

yelling and laughing as if they

silence. Around the lake are the

were celebrating some big festival.

aged temples that have the wooden pillars with finely carved myths and dusty pottery statues

“What are they cheering about?”

I asked my mom.

wo miles away from my

of gods from hundreds years ago.

house, under the shades of the

There are never many people

“We're gonna build a mall in

thick coniferous cedars, there’s a

coming to burn the incense and

town!” Mom answered with

temple. Old wooden buildings

pray, besides cuckoo’s cry, the

excitement.

that have walls with faded red and

sound of the summer rains is

green roofs with cuckoo’s nests

probably the loudest thing ever in

covered under the trees,

the temple. It’s been this quiet for

surrounding a small lake, and

c e n t u r i e s, t h e w a y o f i t s

that’s the Taoist temple of Yun

coexistence with the town, just

Tai. Yun Tai means a platform

like an old man sitting there

above the clouds, no one is sure

relaxed watching his children

about which years exactly the

g r ow. Fr o m g e n e r a t i o n t o

temple was built, but everybody

generation, the town keeps

knows it was during the Ming

changing and changing but the

dynasty. Through the heavy

temple ever stays the same, and I

Destruction work would start

wooden gate that has the color of

once thought this quiet it's going

in 10 days, all the buildings in that

maple and with rusty copper

to last for the next five hundred

block would be removed with the

inlaid, there is a place we used to

years.

high demolition fee paid to the

“At where?”

“The temple” “And what about the temple?”

“Everything is gonna be demolished.”

play hide and seek, a courtyard

owners. Mom said it's great for

filled with eroded steles from

economic growth, the new mall

means more jobs and a much

with sighs but submerged by the

I didn’t realize how pathetic it

higher employment rate, and this

cheering of the crowds. The lake

was that the people weren't aware

also will be a great convenience

was now exposed under the dust

of the artistic and historical value

for ourselves: “despite all the

raised from the ruins, with a thin

and the cultural meaning of the

benefits we’ll get, the temple is

layer of ice on the surface

t e m p l e a t t h a t s p e e ch l e s s

already too shabby and people

reflecting the broken red walls

moment, how pathetic that one

barely go there except some olds.”

and green roofs, it seemed even

nation weren’t aware of the value

The older generation seems to be

more peaceful than normal as if it

of their own culture, but I did

the only people who have

knew what would come and had

feel the deep sadness of Yun Tai,

different opinions about

the courage to face it with calm. It

to be forgotten, to be abandoned.

demolition, but the construction

suddenly starts to snow, without

company ignored their protests.

any indications, the wet and small snowflakes of south China soon

The destruction started on

covered our sights, landed on the

time. It was a Sunday in early

ice, painted the whole lake to

February,

despite the coldness

white like a br ush. The

everybody still gathered in front

destruction continues, the broken

of the temple to witness the start

parts from the building at the left

of the destruction. The

and right side of the lake started

evacuators tore down the front

to fall into the water, and at the

gate with cheering from the

last second before the water had

crowds, and the facade was soon

been polluted by the broken wall,

destroyed. You could hear the

this picture of a lake with pure

machines roaring even from two

white behind the raggedy ruins of

blocks away as the workers sawing

fading red suddenly looked

the pillars. The wood was crying,

strangely and breathlessly

and you could hear it as if the

beautiful. It expanded in front of

temple was moaning painfully.

my eye, and the moment the

“Blasphemy would only bring us

broken piece dropped into that

calamity,” said by an old woman

pure white, my heart was broken .

show. I didn’t think very highly

middle school. I sat down at the

about this song. The words were

piano and started to play the

silly and a Grammy was not in its

chord progression: C,A,F,E (get

future. I didn’t want to perform

it?) and the words came out of

this in front of a large audience.

my mouth. “Creepy cafeteria lady,

But that wasn’t the worst part. If

what’s in that...soup?” The crowd

I ended up performing this song,

started to laugh. I continued to

my teacher would have to dress

sing. “I don’t know what you put

up as a creepy cafeteria lady and I

in there, but it looks like goop.” I

would have to wear my ugly

remember I wanted to use

n sixth grade, I took piano

school uniform. While everyone

another word, but I wasn’t

lessons, and part of the program

else would be wearing fun

allowed. “It says today is chicken

i n vo l ve d p e r f o r m i n g i n a

Halloween costumes, I would be

noodle, but you had to use an ice

Halloween show. The most

wearing my mundane white shirt

cream scoop.” The laughter in the

important part of this show was

and plaid kilt that was way too big

crowd grew louder and louder

that each performer was required

on me. I detested my school

with each line. When the song

to wear a costume that went along

uniform. I was already tired of

was over, everyone clapped and

with their song. The year before, I

wearing it every day at school, so

cheered. The crowd's reaction

dressed up as a peacock while

of course I was annoyed when I

made me less embarrassed about

playing a song about snakes. That

found out I might have to wear it

performing my silly song in my

made no sense to me, but at least

on a Saturday evening. I told my

ugly uniform. A few years later, I

my costume looked good. This

teacher that I did not want to do

found an advertisement for the

time, I was more experienced, so

this, but she said it would be a

music program. It was a picture

my teacher wanted me to do

good idea and a lot of people

of me perfor ming “Creepy

something different. That

would like it.. After a lot of

Cafeteria Lady!” Even though I

summer, I had written a very silly

pressure from my teacher and my

didn’t look good doing it, in the

song called “Creepy Cafeteria

parents, I gave in. I put on my

end, I realized it was the right

Lady,” a song whose title is self-

boring old uniform, and with

thing to do.

explanatory, and my teacher really

every step towards the stage, I

wanted me to perform it in the

was reminded of the horrors of

Untitled By: Carrie Ann Teti

I

“Hello Ma’am, how can I help you?” I asked her.

I sat there silent. I know you are never supposed to question a customer, but it was 2 a.m. and I

I tried my hardest but failed to smile.

Just In Case By: Liam Giszter

I

She smiled at me with large

couldn’t handle it anymore. This felt completely absurd to me.

“May I ask why?” I asked.

pink lips, and walked up to the countertop and handed ten one-

“Just in case,” she said.

hundred-dollar bills to me over t was 2 A.M. when an older

the counter.

After I had finally finished ringing up her order, my mind

woman entered the gas station store smiling, with her palms

“I want to buy out all of the

was off of my girlfriend. I was

sweaty and collapsed together in

firewood you have, all of the

thinking about what the hell I

between her paint-stained jeans. I

matches your store has, and,” she

would tell my boss.

was the only one left in the store;

thought about it for a while, “all

it was another one of my late-

of the hot dogs in your store. I’m

night shifts. I had to cancel a date

hungry.”

me. I didn’t know what to do. I

My jaw dropped. I just stood there.

At 3 A.M., I turned on the news and saw a live broadcast of

was screaming to myself for the past thirty minutes, and I hated

sing-song voice, as she left with arms filled.

for it, and I was freaking out. I knew she was considering leaving

“Thank you!” she said in a

She repeated herself.

some sort of pyre. In the middle of the woods, in a clearing, a few

that this woman had silenced me.

“I want to buy out all of the

miles away, a massive funeral pyre

So when she came in, I wanted

firewood you have, all of the

was created. Whoever had

to do whatever I could to make

matches your store has, and all of

stepped on it was a burnt crisp

her go away as fast as possible. I

the hot dogs.”

now. The cops could not tell until

wanted to scream again.

the fire was put out. Written on sticks on the ground, however,

was the words, “Just in case the world burns.�

I turned off the tv.

Dabin Seomun




BK Kothari

Reed Cooper

until they disappeared on the

suddenly start crying breathlessly

horizon, as if could lead him to

with the most painful tears or

the past, to the age that he

start laughing madly like he heard

belongs to.

the most ridiculous joke in the world. It’s the classical Chinese

Mr. Wu is special, he’s different

(sort of like middle English

from all of us. He has beards as

Shakespeare used) that he was

white as the snow of Everest, it is

whispering dad later told me.

so long that it could easily cover

Despite all his madness, he

his chest without him putting his

teaches us some proverbs and old

obody knows Mr. Wu’s

head down, and it has the feature

sayings when he’s happy, and you

first name, as if he never had one,

tough and straight that don’t

can always find him writing

everybody just calls him Mr.Wu.

belong to the modern age. He

calligraphy with his big old

He is the oldest person in the

always ties his long gray hair on

writing brush in the park. He’ll

neighborhood, and it seems he

the back like the characters from

then teach us the characters and

has lived here for a really long

historical drama would do, and

the poem in his writing if we

time, maybe even before the town

wears a nostalgic black coat as if

went close. My friends’ parents

was built. No one knows either if

he’s walking on the streets of

always tell us to stay away from

Mr. Wu has family, because he’s

1920s. Sometimes we’ll be afraid

the creepy old guy, but the elderly

always so alone. In the afternoon,

of him, not only because of his

seem to be very respectful to him,

he would walk slowly up to the

weird looking but also his

not the kind of respect to friends

big park on the hill where he

craziness. Somedays at dawn,

but more like students to a

could have the best view of the

when there’s still one tiny piece of

teacher.

town, and he would sit quietly

gold shining at the end of the sky,

underneath an old willow that

you would see him unsteadily on

Later I knew this from one of

looks the same age as he is. His

the street as if he’s drunk, shaking

my friends' grandfather who also

eyes would then follow the

his head, whispering some

lived in the neighborhood. Before

dropping leaves that were taken

fragments of sentences like lyrics

The War of Liberation, Mr.Wu

away by the wind of spring, and

or poems that we couldn't

was the landlord of the area that

watch them fly farther and farther

understand, and then he may

included the uphill park and some

Mr.Wu By: Zach Zhai

N

other places around today, he

How did you happen to know

inherited the land from his father

all of this story of the library and

who was one of the ministers of

Mr. Wu? I then asked.

the Qing dynasty. As a history scholar and with the money he

I was one of the students that

inherited from his father, he built

night. Said by the old man with a

a library that contains all his

long sigh, not knowing where to

collections of ancient books,

continue.

traditional wood carvings and paintings in his manor. He

I suddenly understand Mr.Wu,

donated this library to the

when he’s sitting under the old

republic government in 1948, it

willow, watching the leaves going

then became a public library.

away with the wind. From his sad

After the liberation war, his land

eyes, I see a library of humanity is

had all been collected by the

burning to dust, an old culture is

government. As more and more

falling down.

people fleeing from the war started to settle in and together with the native residents, the town has thrived. The library had also prospered for some years, until the time of cultural revolution.

Young students gathered in front of the library, and announced its decadence and futility, what’s inside are is a bunch of crap left by feudal class, and then they burned the library down. The willow is the only thing left there standing after the fire.

 

Costume Design by Sophia Haggray

Costume Design by Sophia Haggray

Costume Design by Sophia Haggray

from under him, the joint roared again.

“ Ye a h yo u s h o u l d b e !

Committing genocide? Bombing neighborhoods? Burning Zoos?

“Hey kid! Give me that back!”

Your highways are murder!”

Francis shouted, without breaking

Old Man Larry’s By: Matteo Lewis

W

Francis ignored his protests and

eye contact. He pulled a small

went through the cavities of his

card from the man's bag. It was

bag. The man was angry until he

his ID for the political party he

realized how outnumbered he

subscribed to, but not the one we

was.

did.

e all occupied various diner

booths. Pancakes, cigarettes,

“Look, if you want money take

The man was silent, he didn’t

fluorescent lights, and scrappy

it. I’ve got some more in my

know how to respond; especially

youth filled Larry’s every Saturday

wallet, here”. He dug a far-too-

not to a group of thirty some

night. It was last Saturday, or

nice wallet out of his pocket and

angry kids. Not after the last bill

maybe the one before that, when

tossed it at Francis. Francis

was passed. It didn’t matter how

an unsuspecting man walked into

laughed and returned the gesture

he was going to respond, he was

the joint. What was previously a

by throwing the wallet to the feet

dead. We dragged him outside

lively, profane atmosphere

of man, along with the other cash

and took turns whaling on him.

changed instantly into absolute

from the bag. He was confused.

The cries bounced around the concrete walls of the jaded

silence complemented by oppressive stares. Old man Larry

“Ah!” Francis said, finding what

neighborhood. It all stopped

dropped a plate in the back. The

he wanted. “What? What are you

when Gene took a fluorescent

crash turned the silence of the

looking for?”

light tube and slit his throat with it. Old man Larry freaked out the

kids into hushed murmurs. The man sat at one of the few spots at

“You enjoy killing people, huh?”

wasn’t a sustainable habit. He

the counter, resting his backpack at the base of his barstool. Before

first few times, but at his age that

“Sorry?”

handed us his mop and a few

the man got a chance to order,

dollars to buy a new one at the

Francis scooped up his backpack

hardware store.




Dabin Seomun

Sydney Bendesky

Sydney Bendesky

Senior Messages In light of this strange year, INK wanted to give seniors an opportunity to write a message they would have liked to be able to share with their community or just messages about their careers at FCS. Below are the messages we received. Thank you seniors!

Senior Message

Lisa Green

Hi Everyone, I can’t believe I’m writing this. I can’t believe I’m writing it instead of saying it. I can’t believe we don’t get our Meeting for Leaving. The one I have envisioned for four years. The one I would think about every time something seemingly huge altered my life. That is heartbreaking, but it makes me think that if we do get this Meeting for Leaving (albeit belated), we may be more grateful for those last moments together in high school. It seems crazy to say goodbye to seven years of learning, growing, making friends, crying, struggling, reaching out, and becoming the person I am now. That is, without a proper goodbye. I guess I want to say something to those not in twelfth grade that I wish I had heard earlier. Most seniors say it goes by faster than you think, and that is certainly true but not the point I am trying to make. The true mistake is not appreciating the people who surround you everyday.

I wasted so much time wondering if people liked things that I was saying, if they liked me and wanted to be around me. My greatest fear was that I annoyed everyone in my life and was fundamentally unlikeable. Once I stopped looking within so much and worrying about every last word out of my mouth, I saw the people who had been there all along and I decided to let myself lean on them. Another comfort came in the form of Mr. Gruber, one of the most generous people I know. I had one class with him in ninth grade and then had a lunch meeting with him once a week for the rest of high school. Those lunches were filled with humor, wonderful, invaluable advice, and true friendship. In one of these meetings, I expressed my anxieties and he told me something I’ll never forget. “Lisa, you can’t expect to go into the world thinking nothing bad will ever happen. But you must have faith that when those things do happen, you will be equipped to deal with them.” It was such an empowering, incredible, awe-inspiring idea. You really do control your life and happiness.

You may not think that you do, but to a certain extent you can if you choose to. Investing in relationships with people who value you, support you, and love you for you, and not caring about those who don’t is a lesson I should have learned long before tenth grade and one that anyone reading this can. Granted, everyone has work to do, but to the right people, you are perfect just as you are, and your struggles do not define you, they just provide you with opportunities for growth. As for the people in my year reading this, I hope we learn something from this whole Covid-19 situation and make a commitment to make things like our reunions great. I hope we can take what we learned from high school and build upon it in our lives, eventually coming back together stronger. I wish all the best for the class of 2020, as many of you shaped my high school experience and the person I am today. To Ms. Novo, the greatest advisor I could ever ask for, I hope you know how incredibly special you are and how lucky we all are to know you and have you as our teacher. I have never seen anyone care and genuinely reach out the way you do. To Ms. Plunkett, thank you for seeing the best in me when I rarely saw it in myself and for having honest conversations on everything from integrals to family drama. To my friends, thank you for teaching me what it means to be authentic, kind, creative, and caring. I appreciate you all and hope you know how much you mean to me. If you are reading this, even if you are a senior, you still have time to make the most of Friends’ Central. Reach out to your teachers (yes, even if it must be on Zoom), tell your friends you love them and don’t be afraid to express how you feel.

Life is just too short to worry and to not show all of yourself. Don’t worry about trying to impress people or making yourself something you’re not. Be genuine, forthright, and authentic, and the rest will follow.

Senior Message

Tristan Szapary

Several ancient trees protect the space of the oval with their gracious shade and comforting presence. SAC tour guides leading their visitors through the heart of campus allow the magnitude of each elderly oak to speak for itself, but what about the trees that an outsider could never see?

The ones with invisible bark and an imperceivable overhang. The ones whose branches wrap all around FCS, hugging each field and filling every classroom. The ones that busy commuters hustling down City Line Ave will never get to see but which any member of the community knows are quite real indeed.

The newest of these trees stood tall and proud even as a little sapling, prepared to bring with it any load of weight picked up along the way as it grew bigger each year.

Now, fully-grown and somehow even prouder, the oak stretches out its 101 individual branches.

Each arm plays an equal part in filling its role, not one could go missing without disrupting the whole.

Attached to every branch is an entire host of more shoots so that each appendage acts as its own individual tree. For every lesson learned with a teacher and each high-five earned from a coach, another twig is born. Equally, any wave from cafeteria staff and all messages from meeting for worship grow more stems on each shoot. What’s left is the collection of all the branches and their individual stories creating a beautiful canvas of shared time, rooted in place by one wide trunk.

Look no further for evidence of these invisible trees’ strength than the FCS history archives or the black and white class pictures hung across the halls of Main. Wars and recessions failed to cut down a single one, and so it seems neither will a pandemic.

Though beautiful oaks complete the space of the oval, the invisible ones protect its spirit.

So the newest of these trees plants itself firmly in the ground and refuses to yield in the face of disease. A bronze plaque floats around the base of the invisible bark, screwless but forever fastened in place. It reads, “With Love in Plenty, Class of 2020.”

Senior Message

Eva Bartholomew

I wanted to use this space to thank everyone I’ve met and formed relationships with, whether it be through class, sports, or clubs. I’d also like to thank all of the teachers I’ve had over the past four years. I did not have the best middle school experience, and I will always regret not coming to FCS sooner. Coming into the FCS community in 9th grade led to such a refreshing and amazing experience that I will never forget. Although we did not get these last three months together, I would not change anything about my experience at FCS. It’s so much harder to write this than I thought it would be; I cannot put into words how much I love this community and how sad I am that the next time I step on campus I’ll no longer be a student. I could not be more grateful for all of the lasting relationships and memories I have because of my time at FCS.

Editor’s Page

Incredible Job! - Alex Emmet Sun

Amazing work this year! - Esmé

So I have to brute force Pages to work, and even then it doesn’t enjoy living, y’know? Which makes me that much less productive, and then I mess up the flow of everything else, and it’s not like I’m a functional editor anyway, but, y’know, vibe check am I right? Just vibe check until everything’s okay, y’know? My entire personality boils down to saying “y’know”, y’know? Like I want those metal-star vibes, y’know? “Know” doesn’t look like a real word anymore, y’know? Also, I’m so proud of my fellow editors...y’know - Y’know (Fotini) Adele Goldader is a barely-functional human being that plays video games and draws occasionally. She is extremely proud of everyone in Ink for finishing the magazine, and will miss her predecessors as they head off into the wide world of not Friends’ Central. Wait, why am I talking about myself in the third person? How did I get here? What is the meaning of life? Someone please send help, I haven’t had Redd come to my island for four weeks straight, and I am in desperate need of art. Does anyone have a decent turnip price? I’ll trade you my Cute Radio. - Adele Thanks for a great 3 years, guys. It’s been so much fun getting to work with you all. I’ve loved getting to read everyone’s submissions, see everyone’s artwork, and watch the magazine come together year after year. I will miss our Thursday meetings! I know the club is in good hands, and I look forward to seeing what you guys do with it in the years to come! Send me a copy every once in awhile, ok? - Sofia I first off want to thank everyone who has submitted anything over the past 3 years I’ve co-led this club. It has been an absolute honor to be a leader and help put the mag together each year, and I know I haven’t done an amazing job, but I’m very thankful to have had this opportunity. I know I’m leaving the club in more capable hands than mine, these three (while chaotic) will undoubtably bring the club to new and better heights, and I can’t wait to see where they go. So thank you FCS, for an amazing 4 years, and thank you especially to Ms. Novo for helping to keep the club alive. Also for putting up with us. I know we’re a lot. I love all my editors a bunch, and thanks again to everyone who submitted! Bye y’all! - Lis Amount of Pages Crashes Through the Making of This Magazine: 6