SWY Lights
Creative Writing Workshop SWY 32 Ship for World Youth 32 2020
This book is the fruit of a collective creative process. Its existence is related to a creative writing workshop organized during our sea journey from Tokyo (Japan) to Ensenada (Mexico) - and back - between January 16th and February 17th 2020, on the occasion of the 32nd edition of the Ship for World Youth (SWY 32).
A sincere note of gratitude to all those who joined the three sessions of my creative writing workshop on Nippon Maru.
SWY is a unique and dense experience. We lived 24/7 together, sharing our cultures and individualities. There are so many intense movements (inside and outside of us) that sometimes it is challenging to metabolize them properly.
AARON BOYENS • ALAA OBEIDA • ALEXIS AMANN • AMELIA MANNERING • ANGEL GARZA • ANITHA SUJENDRAN • CARLA LANFRANCHINI • DANIEL SILAS • DEANÍVEA FÉLIX • FATMA ISMAIL • HAYATE SATO • JOCELYNE CASTELLANOS • JUAN PABLO ZARUR • JUMANA KHORRAMI • KEIMA SATO • LAURAINE HABIB • LORENZO ORTIZ • MANDI MARIPISE • MARIANA MALPICA • MAURÍCIO DIAS • MIKE TUALA • MINNA EBID • NIHAL BEN MANSOUR • OLIVIER SHAW • RANA ALY• RAQUEL CORTEZ • REN UEDA • RUBY CAMPBELL• SARAH CHAU • SEDDIQA MOHAMED •VALENTINA QUIROZ • YUKARI HORI • ZENN URBI
Considering that, this workshop aimed to create time and space to understand what we were living.
And another note to those who couldn’t attend the workshops but still have kindly sent their texts anyway.
To peacefully create - together.
SHYRLEY AYMARA • PADDY GODDEN • MACARENA ARIAS
These stories were written on board of the ship Nippon Maru, all inspired by the greatness of the SWY experience across the Pacific Ocean.
It turned out to be more than that. It became a safe harbor for self-awareness, deeper connections through art and the possibility grasping our creative sparks.
Thank you for your energy and inspiring stories. You have changed my life. Ivan Nisida
Authors of SWY Light Aaron David Boyens Ruby Campbell Mandi Maripise Lorenzo Ortiz de Zevallos Shyrley Tatiana Peña Aymara Lauraine Habib Nihal Ben Mansour Anitha Sujendran Paddy Godden Ivan Nisida Deanívea Félix Valentina Quiroz Taylor Tutawa Berzenn Urbi Macarena Arias Photos Ivan Nisida Edition Ivan Nisida
(NZL 004) (GBR 004) (GBR 009) (PER 011) (PER 004) (EGY 011) (FRA 002) (FRA 003) (GBR 006) (BRA 002) (BRA 009) (ADM 020) (NZL 011) (ADM 017) (PER 008)
SWY is stargazing 
Many thanks to Ruby Campbell for the beautiful title suggested for this book. 
Aaron David Boyens For Ivan, and his book of dreams. Love. Peace when i’m asleep in the afternoon, on the grass by the pool or at the river. in a certain light at the dusky warm part of the day. peace inside me. peace a practice of connection, of understanding too. vitally, of mystery. peace a mode that is shared between peoples, between spaces and creatures. harmony of body and soul, mind and spirit. peace a resolution of conflict. peace a result of reconciliation. peace a cause of reconciliation. peace in the company of those that know me the most and still love me. peace an anti- weapon against fear, shame, lust, hunger, loneliness, tiredness, and anger. peace a revelation. peace a prayer. peace in prayer. peace an offering, a surrender. peace finding strength in vulnerability. peace an open heart with a sturdy filter for fear. peace that displaces worry. peace that fortifies stillness, provides a place to live from. right relationship. peace is a sort of post- forgiveness syndrome. a type of safety. also an expression, an action of love. the practice of peace is what sustains, what lasts. it is wholesome. peace is inside. peace is outside. peace is spiritual. peace is physical. peace is geographical. peace is political. peace is a dream. peace is a reality. peace is the hope in every human heart. This is a movement. a dynamic and living spirit. a grand and sweeping orchestra of breath and bodies and beautiful aching hearts. we all carry this ache. an inherent ability to feel and act
and articulate. keep the tenderness and keep it well. this is the love that the future world will need through famine and familylessness. now we know we are caught up in a cycle, a storm of sorts that waters our crops and rips the roof off, leaving us raw and alive and charged with emotion, or blank and defeated - too open. too open. peace exists in there. somewhere between the cost and the reward. between the pleasure and the pressure. as a result and an incentive at once. something both remote and intimate. intergalactic and personal. peace is a persuasion and a permission. a bright light and an affirmation of the dark. a pathway and a place. peace is the music that drives your heart to forgiveness. peace is the promise that waters your integrity into continual growth. timeless. transforming. peace is here. peace is there. peace, is.
Aaron David Boyens TOKYO Exercise from the Workshop with three prompts: place, thing, feeling. (Tokyo. Wa-Gyn. Excited) I step o the plane and i feel the land greet me. Tokyo. You are not the love i expected, or the place that the screens have reflected. You tugged our plane down with a firm hand and pulled me into embrace. Entrenched now in faith, now upon this foundation fixed, this first feeling. More than excitement! Exhilaration. Breath, because the things that hide at home can be seen more clearly across oceans. The person that you show is not always at home with himself. Where is he at home if not with himself? Could it be that all he needs is another breath? It is not enough to live on food, not wa-gyn or ramen. He needs the sustenance of a breath beyond the usual. I step o the plane and i feel the land greet me. Tokyo.
Aaron David Boyens ON THE LAND On the land, but in a strange way. Here and there, and rushed away. “live on” …”be at peace”… just don’t show your face. “never do the things that show your faith” for these are the things that shake and shake and see the systems fall and break. And what if one should see right through? See the friction of the diplomat and the truth. Sing with the voice of the ages in your youth. Becoming a more broken heart, becoming a more open heart. Bringing yourself to the border to laugh. Laugh at the irony, laugh at the distance. Laugh at the split of the land because the lines we imagine are only ideas. Ideas about where i end and you begin, where i am just me and you are just you. But if you lean closer, and stay for a while… …difference is nothing. And the lines we drew up blurring out in a beautiful hue.
Ruby Campbell DARI-O! DARI-O! DARI-O! DARI-O! It wasn’t my name they were screaming. The focus of the crowd was on my friend, yet I felt their love penetrate my heart like a dart hitting bullseye. With adrenaline surging through my system, I sang and clapped and danced, wave by wave adding to the aura of joy. We weren’t following any cue. With no music or lyrics, no conductor or rehearsal, we were all singing perfectly from the same hymn sheet. A spontaneous outburst of a rainbow of emotions, a multicultural melange of expression in union. I took a step back. The crowd quickly filled the vacuum I’d created, reinforcing the buffer of love. From the outside, the picture was the most colorful I’d ever seen. Languages, cultures, traditions, all splashed on to an ever-growing canvas, too alive for any wall. And in the centre of this beautiful chaos, a striking simplicity stood patiently as emotion whirled around her. Her message was clear - anything is possible. A communion of countries realizing a simple and specific goal. Together, we have the power to change. I locked eyes with my friend, who was held in the eye of the peaceful storm. “Happy Birthday, Dario,” I mouthed. The smile that swam through his tears will be tattooed on my memory forever.
Ruby Campbell The birds are dancing The birds are dancing for me This half-light is half-real A word art gradient I used in Year 9 comes to mind It’s funny how some days the old poems don’t fit so well I once found peace in the waves Her whisper ushered me to secrets In a lost language only I could understand Tinny in hand She guided me to native land How, then, did I lose my mother tongue? Even my mother can’t find it No good are maps or apps I can’t translate your sea-sounds, sea Have you shipwrecked me? Maybe if I could submerge myself in you You’d filter through my bones Bubble through my bloodlines Seep in to soothe my knotted soul I would be sea I would be more sea than me And I wouldn’t have to answer the questions that rail me
About the real me The birds sail alongside and above Guardians of moments like these




Mandi Maripise There are no good days or bad days There are days made up of moments of existential angst There are days when a feeling of panic, And meaningless-ness cripple you When darkness seems to have moved in when you weren't looking And you aren't sure when it came And why it has chosen to stay There are days when you haven't got a taste for life When you crave the other side - or rather the nothingness of the other side When nothingness feels more bearable than this hum-drum in your voice There are days when your palms are sweaty Your breath is short Your jaws are clenched There are breakthroughs There are breakdowns There will be days when you feel expansive At home in this world Jubilant.
When this imperfect walk feels like yours There will be strangers in your bed There will be miles of smiles There will be rivers of tears There are days when; You wake up and smell the coee Walk bare foot Dance in the mirror With the music on full blast Make pancakes, make love, make up There will be unfinished poems, Drawings and projects There will be euphoria There are days when you will run, Not away Because there is no such place There will be unfinished business There are nights that will be filled with dancing, Laughing out loud Rhythm And blues
There are moments filled with poetry Warm hugs Cold beers And cheer There will be hangovers Greasy pizzas Bad decisions And silliness There will be failures Lessons to unlearn Reasons to celebrate There will be ice cream, karaoke, hand holding, There will be screaming, dreaming and scheming There will be self loathing, A lot of self loathing There will be self soothing A lot of self soothing Remember, There are no good days or bad days There are peaks, troughs and everything in between  
Mandi Maripise Friend of the jungle When you look from the outside what do you see? When you poke and probe? When you fly your helicopters over and drive your noisy cars through? What do your drones show you? My friend, let me show you what no heat monitor, 360 (degree) (degree sign) camera or BBC documentary can. This forest has an essence that you might experience whilst you are here but you cannot leave with. I will take you on this journey today. You can follow my footsteps, feel the crunch of the leaves under your feet, smell the air, enjoy of the vibrant colors of this place. The jungle decides the rest. My friend. Here you need to open your heart as well as your eyes to really see. I can only tell what I have spent years learning and experiencing here The jungle, decides the rest.
So my friend, will you walk with me today? With an open heart. With open arms and receptive eyes? And when we are done here. You will share your stories You will tell people of her charm and her mystery You will you tell people how bountiful a place this is And how much you experienced and saw here When they clap their hands for you. Look at you in awe. Will you tell them that the footage you have captured and the stories you have shared are the shell of a living, healing, giving thing? My friend, will you tell them that no amount of words written, pictures taken, data collected and stories shared will ever capture her true essence? Will you share that, the more we try to probe, provoke, the more mysteries we will discover. Will you share that everyday, this place creates new stories, miracles and wonders? Will you tell them, That is the beauty of this place. 
Lorenzo Ortiz de Zevallos Sometimes it’s hard to see. Sometimes there is no grays. Sometimes you’re so fulfill of emotions that you only can see black and white. It’s hard. At that time, you need to take a step back. You have to calm down. Breathe. Close your eyes. Take your time. Don’t rush. Now you can see some colors. Maybe some green, maybe some yellow, maybe some red. The things you didn’t understand now look easier that you expected.
Lorenzo Ortiz de Zevallos “Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar. Caminante no hay camino, se hace camino al andar.” Claro está que heridas tendrás que curar. Y algunas por siempre marcas en tu frente estarán. Caminante no tengas miedo de pisar, pisa y pisa con fuerza que huella haz de dejar. Y cuando listo estés voltea la mirada y observa tu caminar. Observa con nostalgia y orgullo tu recorrido que con pulso has conseguido Pero ten cuidado. A veces los brazos del recuerdo suelen ser cálidos, y como una madre que le cuesta dejar a su caminar nos quedamos atrapados en el musgo del recuerdo. Mantén el ritmo firme. Que el pasado te sirva para seguir cruzando fronteras. No importa si no conoces el sendero, que con calma y energía mantendrás el fuego.
Shyrley Tatiana Peña Aymara Being an indigenous woman in SWY32 In this moment is a little difficult to start writing about my SWY experience. I would like to start with many memories that come to my mind. I remember when I had the notice that I was selected to participate in this Program. For me, actually, this opportunity seems as a dream because of my background that I would like to share with you. My complete name is Shyrley Tatiana Peña Aymara and I am from Abancay district, Apurimac region located in the Peruvian Highlands. I am so proud for be the first participant from this region in all the SWY editions. Also, it is an honor to represent my indigenous identity as a “quechua” woman. It is so important because in all over the history the indigenous peoples were not represented in many spaces. Their traditions, languages, beliefs, dresses, etc. were banned or treatment as a shame because of the effects of the colonialization process. That's made them be part of the marginalized and poorest spaces around the world. It happens strongly in Peru where is so hard to express your own identity without any problem. That's why I really love SWY because is a safe space where I can share who am I, what I represent and what I think and believe with freedom. I can feel that I am writing a new chapter for my peoples and indigenous youth in this program.
In all of this path I could say that we are here representing not only ourselves, but we are here as a result for our peoples that had supported us in each step in ours lives. I am so grateful to my “quechuas” ancestors, my family, my friends and my allies that I found in each dream. When I smile, I always remember the energy that brought me here. Also, I remember my hometown with love because there were born all my dreams. For many of us SWY is the place for make reality many of our dreams. So let's continue SWYing in all the things that we are committed to do. Don't forget the powerful moments that we lived and experienced here since the first day of our trip. Let's continue inspiring new generations with our stories! Kausachun SWY 32! Que viva SWY 32!


Nihal Ben Mansour La citadelle d’Alexandrie. Cet endroit magnifique m’inspire à chaque fois que j’y pense. Je m’assoie sur les rebords des roches, le son des vagues transperçant mes tympans, la brise du soir effleurant ma joue. L’endroit bouillonne, les passant affluent et leur vas et vient incessant s’intensifie. Je suis seule, le regard face à la mer, perdue dans mes pensées noires. La solitude me gagne encore et encore et je n’aperçois même pas l’attroupement de chats s’étant formés autour de moi. Leur miaulement transperce la nuit mais je reste là, immobile, impassible. Des idées de plus en plus sombres me gagnent et là je pense a tout arrêter... Arrêter de réfléchir, de respirer et même de vivre… la mort, une échappatoire, une délivrance. Une victoire, un échec. Mes pensées s’embrouillent, le crissement des vagues s’intensifient. Les badauds se rapprochent, j’entends leur vox s’élever dans la nuit. Un sentiment de panique me gagne, j’étouffe… je sens soudain une main me tirer vers l’arrières, une main ferme et bienveillante qui m’attire vers la citadelle. J’ouvre les yeux, blottis dans es bras de cet inconnu qui me chuchotent des mots a l’oreille. Je ne les comprends pas. Je ne me débats pas et je lâche prise. Des larmes coulent sur mes joues rouges meurtries par le froid. Elles coulent en abondance sans aucun repris. L’inconnu me serre de plus en plus fort dans ses bras. Je sens un sentiment d’apaisement me gagner. Et de la colère, de la rage et de la peur. Celle d’avoir presque commis l’irréparable.


Lauraine Habib
In the middle of pain Comes out the gain As if it’s rain Striking out of a flame The flame of our lives Which never dies But actually revives the meaning of life. Maybe you will find it blur But at the end it’s the cure For a forever mature soul
Lauraine Habib Roads and Roads and Roads‌ The blurred life and mind! I feel so confused, so hesitant, so indecisive. I do not know the path I want to go through, I do not know what the future has for me, I do not know where my heart feels home! Going upstairs, downstairs, straightforward or just STOP! I am not satisfied with who I am, and at the same time I am so proud of myself in many achievements! The inside war between black and white, right and wrong, values and morals or just having fun is draining my mind. Fetching for my identity in the middle of the forest, but I am losing the perception, I am losing the path, I am losing all directions! Oh! I am lost! Then, comes out the light; hope, love, perseverance and hard work! The light that guides me to know the meaning of my life, my message, my moto and the change I should do in this big world although I am just a tiny molecule in a human’s body. The light that makes my soul free and happy.
Anitha Sujendran L’univers, l’immensité de la vie, de la terre. L’univers avec à la fois son désordre ordonné et harmonieux. Les couleurs, vive et parfois sombre, les formes à la fois géométrique et irrégulière, du noir et du blanc. L’univers avec son vide et toutes ces vies, un vide inquiétant et à la fois excitant. Une image qui me donne une vision abstraite. L’eau représentée avec les couleurs et les nuances de bleu, le vert avec les traites allongés qui représente la prairie, la vie vie terrestre et c’est petits points verts par millier qui me rappelle toutes les étoiles dans l’immensité du ciel. Oh toi jolie petite fleur dans ta prairie et ton eau paisible. tes couleurs vives et tes formes unique dans cette grandeur de l’univers, loin de tous ces problèmes et injustice. Puisses-tu à jamais vivre dans ton esprit paisible, cette vie où l’eau te berce et le vent te caresses. Puisses-tu à jamais garder ces couleurs sans que le monde ne te ternisses. Puisses-tu au milieu de cette immensité te découvrir, t’épanouir, vivre la vie que tu souhaites. Marches, marches, marches aussi loin que tu peux. Traverses cette forêt dense, qui mélange vie et obstacle, fait face aux problèmes et embrasses les moments. Ce chemin este chemin d’une vie, de ta vie, alors marches, prends le temps de vivre chaque seconde de cette marche. Parfois ce sera une promenade, parfois une course, parfois il faudra que tu te souviennes d’où tu viens pour savoir où tu vas, parfois il faut se laisser pour découvrir des chemins qu’on aurait jamais imaginés. Ce chemin est périlleux, et c’est en ça qu’il est beau, c’est en ça qu’on vit,
dans l’espoir de vivre et de ressentir tous ce que ce chemin nous montrera. Mais ce chemin est parfois court, parfois long, alors chaque moment est à savourer, à apprécier, à contempler, à aimer. Fais-toi confiance, fais confiance à l’univers pour te guider, sois curieuse, parfois même aventurière, prends des risques pour espérer voir des choses qu’on aller chercher. Plusieurs rencontres t’attendent sur ce chemins, chacune te fera avancer, te fera de plus en plus te trouver, alors profites de ces moments, et ne regrettes rien, suis ton instinct, ton coeur et ce chemin sera un voyage unique et magnifique.
Anitha Sujendran Waikato River est un fleuve qui se trouve dans un pays lointain, reculé de tout, sans aucune population humaine, aucun homme, aucune société. C’est un simple fleuve bleu, paisible qui se retrouve à être le centre de l’écosystème. Ce fleuve modèle le paysage, par ses couleurs, ses sons, ses différentes odeurs. Il apporte clairvoyance, tranquillité et un milieu paisible. Ce fleuve est le lien, le noyau de tous ce qui l’entoure. On y retrouve de la vie sous toutes ses formes, et avec beaucoup de couleurs. Un paysage avec des plantes vertes, des fleurs, des petits, grands arbres, des plantes aquatiques, des plantes terrestres, une flore qui vit en harmonie. On retrouve aussi beaucoup de faunes, des papillons de toutes les couleurs, des oiseaux, des animaux marins et terrestres. L’ensemble de ces êtres cohabite, interagissent pour faire de ce lieu un monde de paix et d’harmonie, d’union. Dans ce paysage on peut voir ce petit oiseau, qui vole dans les airs et qui se pose sur une fine branche d’un arbuste vert. Un oiseau seul qui s’arrête, à la suite d’un long voyage, pour simplement faire partie de ce paysage, pour ne faire qu’un avec ce décor idyllique. Cet oiseau est seul, il est simplement assis sur cette branche à contempler ce qui l’environne. Plus rien ne se dégage, on entend le bruit du fleuve qui s’écoule, la vie qui grouille tout autour et cet oiseau qui se contente de ne penser à rien d’autre que ce moment présent. Un temps, où il s’arrête de son voyage journalier, de ces mêmes différents chemins qu’il prend pour pouvoir vivre sa vie. Mais ce moment-là, à cet instant précis, le temps s’arrête, il prend le temps d’apprécier ce qui l’environne, il réalise les petites choses qu’il y a autour auquel il n’avait jamais prêté attention. Il se
recentre sur cette vie, sur ce monde, qui ne cesse jamais d’avancer, et dans lequel on essaye de trouver sa place, où on cherche, où on se perd, où on ne prend pas le temps de se connaître, où on essaye de survivre, de se battre, de rendre les personnes qu’on aime heureuses. Dans ce monde, où on ne veut pas toujours voir les choses comme elles sont, où on a peur de prendre des risques par peur de perdre le contrôle, par peur d’être faible et d’être vu comme une faible. Par cette volonté de vouloir être parfait, pour pouvoir être parfait aux yeux des autres, aux yeux des gens qu’on aime et même de ceux qu’on ne connaît pas. On veut pouvoir avoir ce contrôle sur ce qui nous environne pour ne jamais laisser aux autres l’opportunité de nous atteindre, pour pouvoir montrer aux autres qu’on est fort, pour faire croire qu'autres qu’on est fort. Mais dans son monde à lui, personne ne te veut du mal et tu peux être simplement toimême sans te poser de questions.
Paddy Godden
I left on my own sadness sweat tears joy truth love We left together

Ivan Nisida Dear Mom, Dear Dad, Yesterday I went stargazing. The sky was clear and all the stars were shining so much. Stargazing is amazing. I took some time to write you this letter. We have been navigating for a long time on this ship: the Nippon Maru. Our floating home. From Japan to Mexico. From the land of the rising sun to the belly button of the moon. Oh, God. What a journey. Dario says SWY is like food. You can’t explain it. You have to try it. “This a PY announcement. Disco, disco. Bum, bum. Pisco, pisco. Bum bum. We are the world, we are the children. Yey, Ohn, Yey, Ohn. More free time. Can we go to the pool? No Hawaii, Yes Hawaii. No Party. Yes, party. No Party. Yes, party. Alebrijes. Delicious”. So many images come to my mind, images that represent the SWY spirit.
Moment 1 I saw the delegation of New Zealand enchanting us over and over with their connection to ancestral knowledge. I live, I die. I live, I die. I am not me: I am my ancestors, I am my land, I am the ones I love. I am the manifestation of many lives and events that came before me. I am not me without them. Moment 2 I saw the strength and passion of outstanding women from eleven different countries. Women who fight every day to shape a better world, women who live in the forest, women who are the resistance. And incredible women from Latin America, the continent without legs, but the one that still walks. Moment 3 Finally, I saw the delegation of Sri Lanka going on stage to sing their national anthem. With them, was a French lady who shares roots with them. She was holding their national flag and singing along. They all had hearts wide open to create a bridge between two worlds that didn’t always speak the same language. To bond. To write a new history. A new story. To create bridges, rather than walls.
Talking about walls, in Mexico, we had to face "the wall". A construction that denies everything that SWY stands for. I stared at the Wall for some minutes. Then I turned back. And I saw all the PYs. And then... I saw no walls. I saw only bridges, connections, bonds. The Wall was a great lesson for us all. It generated debate. A healthy and constructive debate where everyone was paying attention. Pure respect. And Mexico… To talk about Mexico, I have to talk about Mexican people. People who invested their hearts and souls to welcome us in their homes. It might be the land of the belly button of the moon, but Mexicans also carry a sun in their chests.
Dear Mom, Dear Dad, Yesterday, I went stargazing. I love to stargaze outside of the ship. But I have to admit: the best stargazing always happens inside of the ship. All PYs shine in their way. From the most discreet JPY to the loudest Brazilian. And they shine so much. Each one of them shines in its way. In its vibration. In its color. Red, blue, yellow, rainbow. Like all universe itself was in front of me. Right now, the Dolphin Hall is not Dolphin Hall. The Dolphin Hall is a sky full of stars.
En Mexico, me sentí en mi casa. Gracias por eso.
And, together, we shine.
First of February. The departure from the wine museum triggered a new clock for all of us. When the buses started their engines, a countdown to the end of SWY begun.
Love,
We were going home. All hearts were beating faster. Like every single second, every drop of time counted. From that moment on, I believe all emotions were doubled, tripled… I felt SWY experience was beginning. And then, SWY happened.
Your son
Ivan Nisida
Eu converso com essas minhas amigas, as ondas. Elas falam entre fluxos e refluxos. Agitam-se como se fofocassem, em código de espuma, que se esvai rapidamente engolida pelo longo oceano. Olho para o Nippon Maru. Essa máquina de cortar mares, esse mastodonte de crista vermelha. Eu, o sol e as nuvens dançando em fulgor mitológico. Um conjunto de nuvens delas faz um tentáculo. Como se fosse abocanhar o horizonte. Mas o horizonte não se abocanha, ele se testemunha. E se contempla com a maior das ovações: o silêncio.
Ivan Nisida
Poem on a ship We’re on a ship Find a space for poetry Crossing waters, the Pacific, Hell, this is deep. Step forward, lift your pen, We're on a ship, Verse with no plan Go on and take the leap. 
[Anonymous poem] En medio del oceano en un pequeño barco Sólo mar se ve desde cualquier punto. Las olas me arrullan, la brisa me refresca. El sabor salado de mis dedos después de sujetar el barandal. El ruido de las olas estrellándose contra el barco. El barco balanceándose poniendo mi estómago de cabeza, de la misma forma en que lo hace tu mirada cuando encuentra la mía. No sé si es el mar, el mareo, o el bamboleo, pero cada vez te siento más. Siento tus palabras acariciando mi mejilla, tu aliento revolviendo mi cabello, tus manos jugueteando con mis sentimentos. Revolviéndolos dentro de mí. El mar empequeñece todo lo grande que conocía. El mar empujar cada emoción, cada sentimiento hasta llevarlo al límite. El mar, cuanto voy a extrañar el mar. Me siento perdida en él, pero sin estar asustada. Disfruto no saber a dónde voy, dónde estoy. Me gusta ver más allá del horizonte y encontrarlo ahí. Así como en la arena, el mar se ha llevado y me ha traído cuanta costa ha querido.


Deanívea Félix I’ve always thought about how amazing tigers are, but recently I started to ask myself about their uniqueness. Are all of them the same? What makes them different from each other? Maybe the number of stripes changes from one to another, but who would bother to count them? Maybe I should ask the person who ever bothered to analyze how different our fingerprints are.
Deanívea Félix
Dressed in red she walks around, almost as she was dancing Darkness is coming, will grab her No tomorrow, certainly no tomorrow She continues, unstoppable pace The motion takes her by the shoulder As it turns her around, it smoothly joins her Darkness came but she’s been through that
Deanívea Félix Criatividade e curiosidade. Pro ser humano crescer como ‘gente’ essa foi a principal irrigação. Olhar pro alto e apreciar o grande inventor, o doutor, o engenheiro é sim necessário de vez em quando, eles têm seus méritos. O que não pode é esquecer que pra saber que a seca tá vindo é preciso ser ‘estudado’ também. Pra saber que a época da manga tá chegando e que a do caju não se demorou precisa ter passado por muito sol. Essa estação têm sido seca, se não ‘aguar’ vamos todos nos perder.
Valentina Quiroz I come from a long and narrow, remote country called Chile. Its landscapes are various and breathtaking: deserts, high grounds, valleys, forests… but its society is currently facing a very important revolution. And even though I believe revolutions always imply a beautiful opportunity for change and new things, revolutions also carry a lot of pain and hate. I wanted to share this story with you, because I myself was feeling somehow surrounded by the latter feelings; however, SWY has this magical power of making you realize that you can find people who will be next to you and fight for what we believe; and therefore transforming that bad energy into action. Thank you SWY, for giving me the strength to share this story. Chile is crying, tia It seems that it hurts I asked “what’s wrong, mi niña?” Eyes filled with tears, she starts to explain Mi abuela cries, tia She cannot afford foods and meds, and the heart that my abuelo was waiting arrived on his funeral day Mis padres cry, tia for others, their ancestors are “lazy, drunk Indians” their lands were taken, their sons were killed and their culture destroyed until its veins
And my little sister, tia! Even though she’s only 13 Old men stares her top-down and screams “nice ass, babe” And this system, tia querida? that separated us in two those who will have a bright future and those that, if lucky, won’t end up in jail Chile llora, mi niña because it is unfair credit cards for bread, education with checks health attention depending on your wallet and also on your last name But wait a moment are you sure is just despair? Cuz I also hear loud voices “A new Chile is coming” “Chile has awake” Don’t be scared, mi niña it is not only her Perú, Bolivia, Ecuador, Mexico, Brazil. A toda nossa latinoamerica, and the entire world Smells like a new tomorrow is about to begin
“Não se pode comprar o vento” “Não se pode comprar o sol” “Não se pode comprar a chuva” “Não se pode comprar o calor” A história é nossa Latinoamerica camina hacia adelante Fuerza Chile, fuerza Latinoamerica, fuerza to the entire Earth
Valentina Ardiles Quiroz Querida abuela, ¿Cómo estás? ¿Has podido descansar bien? Te escribo porque me pasó algo muy bonito que quiero compartir contigo. ¿Te acuerdas que te dije que estoy participando en un programa de intercambio cultural? Bueno, en uno de los grupos en el que estoy, estamos preparando una canción en español para nuestra visita a México. Todos intentamos aprender la letra, y hay una chica con guitarra y otra con otro instrumento (parece un piano-flauta, es muy gracioso) que nos acompañan. Para mí es fácil, porque el portugués se parece al español, pero creo que para mis amigos de Bahrein, Egipto y Sri Lanka debe ser muy difícil… ¿Has escuchado árabe, abuela? ¿O sinhale? Es muy bello, parece música. Bueno, lo que quería contarte es que en una de nuestras prácticas, la chica mexicana del grupo se emocionó mucho al escucharnos cantar. Y algo dentro de mi hizo click, como si tirase con fuerza hacia una memoria en los rincones. Me pregunté unos minutos que recuerdo buscaba salir a flote… ¡y pan! Las letras de la canción llegaron a mi mente. “Ay, Ay, Ay ay… canta e não chores...” ¿Te acuerdas, abuela? Tú solías cantarnos esta canción a mi madre y hermana, cuando teníamos que partir de tu casa a modo de despedida. Me tomó un tiempo recordarlo, pero al prestar atención, fue como escucharte cantar en nuestro hermoso idioma. “Canta y no llores…” eso estoy haciendo, abuela, aunque la emoción de ese momento con tu recuerdo me hace difícil contener las lágrimas.
¿Te acuerdas, abuela? Lo dudo, ya no recuerdas nuestros nombres. Pero, aunque el Alzheimer te robó tus memorias, aún no arrebata las melodías de tu alma. Porque cuando cantamos, no puedo explicarlo, pero brotan de ti las letras y la melodía. Y esta canción no es la excepción. Entonces entendí, abuela, la emoción de la chica mexicana al ver dos partes importantes de su vida conectarse a través de la música. Como mi experiencia en SWY y tu presencia. Y la verdad es que a veces siento tristeza de que tus recuerdos sólo sean canciones. Pero creo que después de SWY, pienso que soy muy afortunado de aún poder escucharte cantar. Y además, tu canto me ayuda a sanar las penas. “Porque cantando se alegran, cielito lindo, los corazones”




Taylor Tutawa The Night Walker: Darkness Empty space Nighttime falls and I feel out of place Sunshine gone and people sleep For all the lost time I can’t help but weep Broken hearts and stolen kisses Romance on SWY is sometimes so malicious Music booms out loud Screams and shouts ring out from the crowd Stomps and claps Screams and smacks The party has just began Megan the dancing queen Lorenzo the greatest flirt I’ve ever seen Gilberto the finest musician on the ship Oh look there’s Grace and Ana dancing the dip Kyiani and Cara up to no good There goes the NZ crew all with their favourite hoods Mahfouz is rocking the side hustle from his crutches And there’s the Bahrainis eating again with their late night munchies There goes Naoya to do some crazy shit
And somewhere from the back someone screams, “This is Lit!” DJ Hayate spins his deck from dusk to dawn And one by one all the party goers will start to yawn Kenya, Brazil to UK and Mexico last They will leave, present to past And I will still be standing, the very last Insomnia hurts the most when your alone No one to spend time with and the only sounds are Marvin Gaye singing from my phone Blinks of light on the ship’s deck Sounds of feet meet by water as I slowly move left Up and up we go The seventh than eighth deck I see stars, the moon and the whip of the wind blow I remember my home and the people I left behind To my surprise there is no pain, no homesickness left The only thing I feel is the incredible need to rest Fatigue wears in and muscles ache Hard to think more as Nippon Maru shakes and quakes Slowly but surely I wait for the sun Thinking back on last night I had such a lot of fun No Pisco, no tequila is needed to make me hype All I need is some good people who are just my type
Love to sing, dance and have a good time The SWY family I am proud to say they are mine First lights hit the deck Rays of sunlight make me reflect No pain, no joy No emotions at all I am simply at my best and my worst A young man who gave his all and wanted nothing in return Nothing has changed and the world continues to turn My hands clasp on my cabin door I walk slowly as my feet hit the floor The sounds of my roommates echo as they snore I finally fall into my bed and close my eyes forever more Nightwalker  
Berzenn Urbi TRUE LOVE I have not imagined myself waking up again in MS Nippon Maru. This is my third time on this ship. The feeling coming back is always exhilarating. I have thought million times, whether this comeback is all worth it. Maybe it is. Friendship or love. Wait, what is love? Let me begin my story. I saw his beautiful eyes the moment I arrived at Tokyo NYC. He walked pass me and we caught sights together, for seconds. I have seen his photos online, but to see him face to face brought a completely different feeling. I don’t know how to explain, but when our eyes collided with each other, I know I would need to know him. Who is he? I was initially throwing my observations and picking up some clues of who this man is. I was trying to gather as many jigsaw pieces I can collect to solve this puzzle him. Then our first gathering arrived. Everyone was with big question marks on their faces. I saw him walking in from the back of the room. He took one of the back seats. He was calmly digesting all the information I was lecturing during this session. Then in the middle of the discussion, he popped a question, “Can a perfect person change?” I was taken aback not by the question but why he asked that question. I asked myself, “What was the intent of
him asking the question? Why did he ask?” I desperately need to know. The programme started. I was beginning to get to know my participants. Then one day, his turn for me to get to know him deeply arrived. I asked him if we can have lunch together. He said yes, and so we did. During the conversation, I can’t help but stare at his eyes. I was intently decoding all the firings of his optic nerves, the dilatation of his pupils, the reaction of his eyelashes, and the movement of his eyebrows to get as many clues as I can. I mean, he is a good-looking man. A good scenery to look at. But I was also hoping I can catch a glimpse of this person’s nature. I was hoping to see the rapids of his Amazon river in his heart. And I did. He told me, unreservedly, his story. I listened to every detail. My mind was jotting down all the clues, painting my consciousness wall with his stories. As I got to know him, the attraction grew. Yes, that first meeting, I can’t help but just fall in love with him and his story. It was a messy story but I loved it. It was a story I don’t want to have, or even want to experience. But despite all of that, the force towards loving him and his story grew stronger. I can’t help, but I was slowly being magnetised to his possessive storytelling.
His beautiful eyes expressing life sorrows, his lips needing genuine kiss, and his heart broken into pieces. I have the strong desire to fix him. I want him whole. I don’t know why I am always attracted to people in the pit. Why am I always attracted to people needing to be fixed? Then life onboard continued. We had more time to talked with each other. As I get to know him deeply, the attraction turned stronger. One night, he asked me if we can catch up. We sat down together in the corner and talked for hours. But I was taken aback when he told me his love rejection story about this girl in the program. I asked him why he acted on his feeling when he doesn’t see himself to be in a relationship after the program. He said he loves to be in “hurtful relationships”. When he uttered that, I know I have solved the puzzle. I have the answer to all my questions. The answer to all my questions about him, my feeling for him, and my desire to get to know him. Love is patient. Love is kind. Love does not envy. Love does not record wrongdoings of others. Love is him. Yes, he was the representation of the powerful genuine love that was shown to me when I hit rock bottom. He was the mirror of true love, that despite my messy life, someone can truly believe in me. I was wrecked into pieces knowing there is someone who loves me, even before I have loved myself. To hear this guy’s story; his suffering and desire for chaos, is as clear as my previous experiences - the things I have abandoned, rejected, and neglected because of my desire for hurtful relationships,
too. Every one of us has the ability to create or want hurtful relationships. Whether it is by our own volition, or simply because of the world we are in. Relationships are complicated, dramatic, and messy. My desire to help him out of the pit is strongly driven by the fact that I have experienced true love myself. The love that moved me from death to life. The love that sees order in chaos. The love that sees beauty in suffering and pain. The love that loves despite of the past, the hurt, the breakup, the death. The love that loves hurtful relationships, and still find meaning because true love refuged me. That is me. That is why I have loved this guy. That is why, I was in love with him and his story. Would I choose to act on the attraction feeling I have for him? I rather not. I choose true love. To not push forward any selfish emotional desires I have for him. He purely deserves help, and I hope that by being good friends together, he would realise that the true love he is looking for, is just here. I pray he get drowned by true love. I want his being to be broken into pieces by true love and its pure existence. True love is the act of giving your life away for someone, despite all the messiness he has been. So that the hurtful relationships he has been looking for will be replaced by true love. The true love he has never experienced in his life. The true love he deserves, at least for once. Friendship or love. I choose true love. Berzenn Urbi, 13Feb2020 10:41am, MS Nippon Maru
On Blessed Connections
Macarena Arias
Something peculiar and magical happens when you put a bunch of strangers together in an enclosed and isolated environment like the Nippon Maru. Every soul has a story, a background, an ancestry, a purpose. Everybody has suered, cried, loved and laughed in dierent corners of the world. Every mind has learned, processed and integrated a unique set of information. Every heart has been broken, love-sick, or love-drunk. Something strange happens when all of these concoctions of circumstances come together to play, laugh, dance, talk, sing and create. We exist in what feels like a limbo in time, moving through every moment, because there is nothing more than this instant. Breath Word Present [...] . . .
Now. Did you take in that moment? Time is but a plane which displays a set of instants one after the other. And in every instant, matter becomes energy. Matter is energy. When you zoom in every single cell of what is present, you start seeing atoms, and then particles, and after that sub-particles and then just the single unity of space, vibration. Wave particles. And when wave particles vibrate at the same frequency there is resonance, and in resonance, waves amplify, and as we amplify, our hearts expand and suddenly we feel connected. Resonance in smiles, stories, interests that amplify our sense of being, community and belonging. And so life - existence- becomes richer. I live and work in the Peruvian Amazon with the ShipiboKonibo people. It is a challenging environment, where life and death coexist very close to one another. The high temperatures and humidity levels cause shoots to rapidly spring and leaf matter to quickly decay. Deadly mosquitoes and insects thrive, ants eat the leftover carcasses of a hunted animal. Predator eats prey. The land and its people have been heavily predated as the first colonizers searched for gold and spices in the 1600s. Indigenous people died massively because of disease and became enslaved in missionary villages first, then by rubber barons, now by a crippling economic system. Yet, today they live. Today this part of the world is one of the most biodiverse places on earth, yet one of the most destroyed.
It is known for hosting potent medicinal plants, yet its inhabitants are sick and anemic. Mighty rivers carry abundant resources, yet are being polluted by mercury, drug traďŹƒcking and oil spills. In fact today, in my region, the Ucayali region, we are fighting together with indigenous communities against the construction of an oil lot - Lote 200. Our governments are pushing the last frontier of fossil fuel extraction, while climate collapse seems imminent. The Anthropocene is at a precipice, but the forest is shouting in its own way and calling us to listen. The relationship must be remembered, healed, restored. Being indigenous to a land means belonging to it. As I began my work with the indigenous peoples of my country, I also began to understand what it means to truly belong to nature. We are nature. Nature is alive. Nature is spirited. I learned that every plant, animal, human has a spirit, and that there are master plants - plants and trees that teach. They have been put on this earth to transmit knowledge, guide us, become our friends, and in becoming a part of us, we become a part of them. We build relationships. Through diligent isolation and strict dietary and behavioral protocols, which the ShipiboKonibo call samĂĄ, you ingest a concoction made of the plant or tree of choice. You physically open your cells to absorb the plant molecules by not eating salts, sugars, oils, certain meats, avoiding drugs, and abstaining from sexual behavior. You mentally cleanse your brain from distractions by isolating yourself and retreating to the forest. You let the plant teacher
heal you, emotionally purge you, cleanse you. You become stronger, learn lessons, fill your heart, straighten your mind. As it occupies your body, it will talk to you in your dreams. You are no longer just human. You have just become part plant, humbly expanding your interconnectedness to the immense web of existence which is too vast to comprehend. The master plant has been at your service, emulating nature's regenerative cycles of abundance. How will you now be a channel of that which was given to you? How will you be of service to life and the greater good? As I reflect on these questions and the fundamental interconnectedness of all things, I cannot help but come back to the words blessed connection. We constantly form bonds and build relationships with one another. We can connect to plants, clouds, mountains, memories, ourselves, our ancestors, our fellow PYs. But what makes these bonds truly blessed or sacred -I feel- is the ability to enter this unstoppable positive feedback loop of abundance, regeneration, creation. You get in touch with the very force of creation, understanding that life is creation, and you can sense that single vibration in space, pulsing cells, amplifying at the same rhythm. The pulses start breaking walls, vulnerability. In openness we find wounds, we shake the ache together, dancing in a sea of tears swept by old fears. In the warmth of an embrace, the particles elevate and activate, serotonin, oxytocin, dopamine, unlocking the treasures we are here to share. A treasure chest full of seeds ready to be planted, watered by the spirits we let into our garden. You are not only you any more, you are part of who you connected with.
Your fellow PY has been at your service, emulating nature's regenerative cycles of abundance. How will you now be a channel of that which was given to you? How will you be of service to life and the greater good? It is my intuition that SWY32 came to my life for a reason, and that I am crossing paths with people because our resonances are meant to amplify not only our own hearts and minds, but ripple into those around us. Now, their spirits are a part of me. I came to this boat with baggage that I knew I needed to leave behind. I broke bonds with people and circumstances that did not serve me well. My glass was half empty going in, but now I leave with an overflowing fountain of abundance, which was only possible thanks to every single being that poured love into my cup, and believed in me. My purpose is strengthened and I can walk my path in greater service of the world. I humbly receive every experience that I have had on this journey, and treasure the blessed connections that have nurtured my heart and soul. How will I be a channel of all that was given to me? How will I now be of service to life and the greater good?  
We meet to part
We part to meet

