EDITORS NOTE
Dear reader,
In a world which is continuously evolving and changing, there is comfort to be found in the things that remain constant the things that are timeless. The ideas, moments, and works that can transcend eras are those that capture the essence of the human experience They resonate across generations, countries, religions, and beliefs, creating unity within the human race
When thinking of timelessness, you might think of the classic works of Jane Austen and William Shakespeare, or Leonardo da Vinci and Vincent van Gogh all of whom have helped to shape the world of literature and art But there are also works shaping the present contemporary voices, who will continue molding humanity's most creative fields through their words and their art.
In this issue, writers and artists explore universal timeless themes such as fashion, history, love, and identity. The goal of this edition is that with every page you turn, you can appreciate the small moments in life that are often overlooked. The only thing truly ever lost is time Le Papillon’s
Editor-in-Chief, Chelsea Jenkins
“ARTPERSISTS,IT TIMELESSLY CONTINUES”
-OSCARWILDE
SNOWSTOP CIRSTENAYOTTE
TIMELESSTEA AVASKILLING
AUTUMNFOG BROOKEHENDERSON
CLASSIC
CADENCEMILLER
THETIMELOOP HAT SHAYLAKING
FROMSTORMS TOSUNSHINE
K.ERLER
I’MSTILL STANDING ANONYMOUS THE GAMEMASTER ANONYMOUS
IFTIMEWAS
LIKEWATER LOGANLEHMAN
TICTACTICTAC ANONYMOUS
A Lonely River
The artwork captures timeless beauty and emotion that everyone can relate to. Its classic themes remind us of shared experiences; capturing scenery that connects us all.
By Addison White
BYLOGANLEHMAN
L O VEISTIMELE S S
In forests, things move constantly, The riverbanks bend and become strange, The trees grow and melt away, It never stays the same.
“The sky is always blue,” but that’s a saying I never get, The greys, yellows, pinks, and reds light up the sky, At sunrise and sunset.
The cityscape changes, The landscape rolls, Beliefs are ever changing And death takes its toll.
But one thing has always been, and will forever be,
That love is endless, timeless, and sacred, it’s always you and me.
Love flows like a river, Bends like a tree, Lights up your life like fireworks, But can sting like a bee.
In moments of happiness, Joy and peace, Moments of grief and doubt, Of truth and belief.
In moments of light, And darkness too, Love is always present, Looking after you.
No matter what you think, What you care to believe, Love is the one thing, That unites humanity
Sanguine like a dream
We met when we were young. Still wide-eyed and curious. Every buzz, every creak, every snap of a branch was a wonder. You made me smile when I felt lost; I was your compass when you felt imperfect. We were inseparable, you and I.
Winding trails
I never thought I'd find someone so similar and yet so different to myself. Yin and Yang we were. In the dark you were a soft incandescent glow and I was your landmark amongst the endless wilderness. We unified each other and I never wanted to be incomplete again.
TIMELESS AS SU BYANONYMOUS
A fork in the road
As time wore on our feet grew. You grew lean chasing dreams, birds, and everything you could see. I found strength delving into the realm of thought and wonder of every moss, tree and soil. One day you went to explore, leaving only a promise behind I held onto that promise as I stayed the course, remaining your beacon for when you returned. You always returned and I always sought you out.
All roads lead to home
As I tread through the hedges and push through the leaves, I see you. You've acquired new scratches and scars from your journey to discover and I have new memories from my endless days of searching. We're different now then what we once were I suppose, but you and me darling we ' re thick as thieves and nothing is as timeless as that.
I want to be eternal.
Immortal
Infinite
I want to breathe far past my last breath
I want my skin to rot into the ground,
Let it fertilize the daisies that will grow over top my grave. Give me no tombstone, not a word, for you cannot sum a lifetime into a slate.
I am not just a loving wife nor a devoted daughter.
I am no hero, no martyr.
So let my bones be feasted on by bugs and be dug up by the children of the child.
Let them put me in a glass case for people to stare And I will not weep,
For I am no hero, I am not a martyr, I am no somber daughter of a daughter. And let my soul perish,
For to be eternal by human standards is worst of all
So let me die as an idea
Let them be unknown to who I was.
Let them try and fail to decipher my life, May the world remember me as hope,
As perfection.
I want to be eternal like a saint. Not like a person.
Don’t let them find my soul,
Don’t let them immortalize it before I do
Oh, children of the child!
I am not your somber daughter of a daughter.
I am not your martyr, or hero or loving mother. I am not your devoted daughter Do not display my human,
But my mangled bones.
Let me be mystery,
Let me die as a question.
Immortalize me as a child’s young curiosity.
Not as a person.
Growing old and holding on to what you care about most is timeless and necessary. The journey feels long, but do not forget the pieces thatmakeyouwhoyouare.
T h e H o u r
IT WAS THE FUTURE, THE CRACKS STRETCHED WIDE WITH FRIENDS DRIFTED AWAY, ONE THE CLOCK'S D AND I ASK MYSELF, WAS I EVER ENOUGH? AT HOME, THE TICKING
UNTIL THE HANDS STOPPED, THE GLASS A CLOCK AND I ASK MYSELF, COULD I HAVE SAVED IT? TIMELESS, THEY SAY, N BUT IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN
FRIENDSHIP FADES, FAMILIES BREAK, AND I’M LEFT HOLDING THE
T h e y L e f t
TICKING CLOSER, EVERY CHIME OF THE HOUR. BY ONE, DRIFT WORSENING. GREW LOUDER, SHATTERED NEVER CHANGING, A LIE. A SINGLE GEAR GRINDING DOWN. THAT COULD NO LONGER HOLD TIME.
PIECES OF A SHATTERED CLOCK. AND I ASK MYSELF, HOW DO I MOVE ON? D o m i n a L u n a e
d o m i n a l u n a e a
GirlWith APearl Earr
BY SOPHIE
l ring
HOPE
ByAnonymous
The situations repeat themselves endlessly.
Two brothers speak under the stars, their voices are full of sparks and their eyes full of dreams, they see beyond the sky and through time, hope dancing between their words, the sand is irregular under their bodies and the gusts, salty, makes them feel alive.
Elsewhere, two sisters speak under the bombs, their voices are full of fire and their eyes full of nightmares, mud and soot decorate their bodies, they see beyond the smoke and through time, hope runs through their prayers, the burst of the fire and the rips in the sky make them feel alive.
Before, two lovers sing by the fire, their alcoholic breath repels mosquitoes and their laughter is filled with childhood, they see beyond words and through time, hope vibrates through their eyes, their hands seek their bodies, the crackling of embers and the cricket in the grass make them feel alive.
Afterwards, the elder looks at the world from atop a tower, speechless and his eyes overflowing with memories, he sees the essential and through time, hope holds his hand, his body vibrates with the blowing wind and the sparkling lights of the cities make him feel alive, he remembers all its stories as unique, as universal, as sudden than timeless.
ESPOIR
ParInconnu
Les situations se répètent sans fin.
Deux frères parlent sous les étoiles, voix sont pleines d’étincelles et les yeux remplis de rêves, ils voient au delà du ciel et à travers le temps, l’espoir dansant entre leur mots, le sable est irrégulier sous leur corps et les bourrasques salées les font sentir vivant.
Ailleurs deux sœurs parlent sous les bombes, leurs voix sont pleines d’incendie et leurs yeux remplis de cauchemar, la terre et la suie décore leur corp, elles voient au delà de la fumée et à travers le temps, l’espoir court à travers leur prières, les crachats de feu et les fissures dans le ciel les font se sentir vivantes.
Avant, deux amants chantent au bord du feu, leur haleines alcoolisées repoussent les moustiques et leur rires sont remplis d’enfance, ils voient au delà des paroles et à travers le temps, l’espoir vibre à travers leurs regards, leurs mains cherchent leurs corps, les craquement des braises et le criquet au loin les font se sentir vivant.
Après, l’ancien regarde le monde depuis une tour, sans voix et les yeux débordant de souvenirs, il voit l’essentiel et à travers le temps, l’espoir lui tient la main, son corp qui vibre au vent soufflant et les lumières de la villes qui scintillent le font se sentir vivant, il se rappelle de toutes ses histoires aussi uniques, qu’universelles, aussi subites qu’imperissables.
Untitled
Louise-Blaise Reniva
Every moment with you has felt so painfully fleeting.
Akin to snowflakes that land on my skin, I attempt to fit everything about you your eyes, your breath, your skin into one moment, but as soon as I think I've done so, the chance passes.
The simple thought of you ignites within a greed so consuming that I ought to step into the door of the divine and demand time without bargain.
Oh, the things I would do if time surrendered to me, to us.
I would undress every layer of my body, give my soul to you as if it was your right from the day you were born. The act of loving you is a process so constant that it is as if everything in this world, even time itself, feels like an interruption
SpringsoF Past
The cold paints the night in deep blue growing richer with the depths of winter; barren branches taunt the absence of sun
And twinkling with snowfall, the angels sink in my palm–but let the season pass!
Return the hush and silk of rain to me; Have those silvers of home descend on soil
Who give rise to stems and crown them; blanketing fields again with the youth
We can only remember delight me with a walk into that memory when the photos grow too faint for the past is not kind enough
To delight us with a visit
Xyza Yuting
Snow
TStop
his art piece I've created is related to the theme of Timeless in many aspects. This art piece is designed to show the emotion that I feel when out in a snowy forest. Nothing but the cold awareness of myself and the light glow of electronics Time feels slow, It's peaceful and quiet
A minute can feel like hours when you just watch the snow fall. I find peace within it and get lost inside the feeling. Time feels meaningless when you can enjoy the soft glow of a light, as you avoid modern society by simply relaxing in the cold winter frost.
CIRSTEN AYOTTE
T i melesstea
The Victorian tea cup represents a moment in history– an era of status and refinement, captured by the delicate porcelain cup and saucer. It is still used and appreciated by tea enthusiasts and collectors who appreciate its timeless beauty
Autumn Fog
BROOKE HENDERSON
Onafoggy,autumnnight,achilly breezestartlesJessica.Shehadjustt previouslyleftherhousetogoonawalk toclearhermind.Jessicastumbledupona paththatledtoacoupleofbranchedtrees with noleaves.Shehearsanoise.Jessicaturnsaround andsees.......Nothing,
Shedecidestostayonthatlittlepath.Shelooksatthefog untilsherememberswhyshewentonthiswalkinthefirst place.Shestaresuntilsheremembers.Right,shewentona walktoclearhermind.
WHAM.Jessicajumped,shesawabranchfallfromabrokenbird watchingstand..Thestandwashalfwayupthetree,itlookedlike twasrustedfromtheweatherconditions.Shenoticedapuddle andsomegarbage.
"WhydidIevencomehere?"Jessicahadaskedherself multipletimes.Hermindwasnotclear.Jessicastarted toclimbupthetreetogetonthestand,onceshegot there......Shefeltpeace.Shefeltlikehermindhad beencleared,untiloneofthewoodplanksshe wasstandingonfelloutfromunderneath herfeet.
Autumn Fog
BROOKE HENDERSON
Sheholdsontothetree Ahand suddenlygrabsontoherfoot,she screams,againandagain Shelooked downandnobodywasthere.
Hermindisnotclear
Jessicakeepssayingthatexactsamesentenceover
andoveragain.Sheheardaloudbang,ordidshe actually?Shecan'treallytell Allshecanhearisthevoice inherheadtalking.
Hermindisnotclear
Jessicadecidestogohome.Shehashadenoughofthiseeriefeeling.She
startswalkinguntilsherealizesshedoesn’tknowwhichwaytogo The foggyskyistakingover,andshedoesn’tknowwhichway ishome.She can'tevenrememberifshehasahome.Shefeelspain,shecan’t rememberwhathappened.Butsheknowsthatthisawfulfeelingispainful
Allofasudden,noneofhersensesworked.Herhearing, taste,smell,noneofitishowtheynormallywouldbe Shewakesupandisbackinherwarmbed.Whathad alljusthappened?Jessicadoesn'tknow Wasitreal orfake?Wasthefoggyautumnnightreallyreal? Wasitalljustadream?Hermindcouldnot processalltheseemotionsIntheend,her mindwasneverreallyclear.
CLASSIC
When I think timeless, I think fashion Specifically, Dior's New Look with voluminous skirts and offthe-shoulder collars
Something about the style transcends time too. .
It's elegant and refined; and if you chose to wear it, you'd be just as sophisticated today as you would have been 70 years ago
This piece was inspired by fashion sketches of the 1950s.
The TimeLoop Hat
-Shayla King
A wearable piece of art made from recycled materials. A reflection of industry, games, and fashion from the ages. Made by a young woman with an old soul and a creative spirit.
toFrom Storms Sunshine
K. Erler
The storm had passed by the time I had arrived at the river A few people had already returned to the beach on the sand bar when I sat down to take off my shoes, happy to wade along the cool river on a hot day The riverbed was rocky under my tender feet I noticed a pale smooth cream patch under the water and tentatively slid my foot over it Ahhh, silky soft clay It felt luxurious as I added my second foot to the creamy slick, but trying to stand on wet packed clay in a river was like trying to stand on a surfboard in a hurricane I quickly began sliding downstream with billowing clouds of silty clay floating up around my feet Fortunately, the patch was small so I didn’t get far before regaining my grip
eat
lls, er, of om p p ed it in my hands It had beautiful striations of slightly different grey coloured clays, undoubtedly laid down through thousands of storms Tiny particles swept downstream in a timeless cycle of storm and sunshine Where had these layers come from? How far had they traveled? How long have they laid here, compressed by the years? Awestruck by the thought of holding so many years– so many places in the palm of my hand, I felt compelled to move the clay into a form on my pottery wheel at home I wanted to preserve it, create an ode to its timeless nature Immortalize its transformations over time, from the river, the storms, and the sun Thus it fell into my pocket, and I continued my and its journey
Eventually, the clay and I made it home into my little garag studio where I cleaned out the bits of sand and gravel, an marveled even more at its beauty. Its age and timelessnes I plunked the silky grey lumps onto my wheel and spun tw pieces into tiny little tea cups. How sweet it would be to s from the earth! The dark grey dried to light grey, and the d f th h t b ll f th kil m, so
h no
er to and f 120
act; i went ses c p p g to a Christmas morning what joyful surprises will be ? But on this day, there was no joy To my horror, I opened to find two large molten puddles entrapping my various he kiln shelf In fact, fusing mugs and bowls to the at happened? Slowly, I realized the fate of the two 1200oC was more than a wee bit too hot for them, ned to their original state– a molten mass of iron cles born from deep within the earth The timeless, of the clay winning out over my desire to preserve e weight of thousands of years of storms and
In my melancholy I picked through the remains of the kiln contents, cutting my fingers on the glassy shards Blood stained the molten, iron like substance Carefully, I removed a black mug from the grips of the now solid mass Fused into the glossy black was an almost honeycomb-like texture of the melted river clay–interesting Has it left me a gift? I plugged in the Dremel tool, whisked away the sharp edges, and to my surprise and delight, I found a usable mug with a protective coat of iron armour cast around its base. Though transformed, the river clay had remained timeless, still leaving me with a little gift, and a sweet cup for tea.
I believed I could illustrate the timeless character of nature compared to human creations. Given climate change and the poor choices the world has made and continues to make, I believe it's a really significant topic these days.
“ “
ANONYMOUS
theGamemaster
263 days 263 days that we ’ ve been stuck in this mess I can't remember who I am or why I am here, nobody can All I know is that I have to survive his evil games, his games of life or death The TV flickers: it’s him, the ‘Gamemaster’ He’s the one that keeps us here, he’s the one who makes us play these death games. All the other contestants and I ran to the TV to see what death games he has planned for us next
“Hello contestants, long time no see! I’m surprised you ’ ve all made it this far, luckily we have another game to play!” The crowd sighs, we ’ re all exhausted. We’ve been doing this too long, we ’ ve been here too long But we all know that he will keep playing these games till there's only one person left There is only one prize, something they took away from us Our memory
The T.V. flickers again.
“Don’t whine! We’ll get started soon In fact, let's start right now! We’ll play hide and seek, simple enough! I assume you all know how this game works. I will give you 2 minutes to hide and if I, and by “I” I mean my henchman, find you, you get eliminated If you aren’t hidden by the end of the 2 minutes, you will also be eliminated! The last one to be found will win the grand prize, good luck!”
The TV turns dark, a timer appears on the screen We all scramble to find hiding spots 2 minutes may sound like a lot of time to hide but this place is huge! I run, I don’t stop running till I find a spot I am running so fast, that I keep tripping over my feet. I can’t lose this, I need to know who I am. I can’t die without knowing my true identity
“20 19 18 ”
It’s the timer I scramble to find a spot I find a box, yes it's obvious but if I don’t find a spot it will be guaranteed death I go under the box and cover my mouth to slow down my breathing
“3..2..1..”.
Everything went quiet 1 gunshot goes off, nothing Then another, and another, until I hear footsteps They are right next to me I hold my breath hoping, praying that the gun doesn’t go off. A BANG and the bullet hits my leg. I hold my breath trying not to scream, it hurts so bad
“Clear,” the man says He didn’t find me HE DIDN’T FIND ME! “Times up!” The Gamemaster says. I get out of my box and stumble my way over to the TV “I see you ’ re the only one left! Congratulations, you win! As I promised, your prize ” “I win, I WIN” I say, then everything goes black
Beep, beep, beep.
“He’s waking up, get a doctor!” says a female voice. I wake up, and I'm in a hospital bed.
“What happened?” I ask the nurse right next to my bed
“You got in a plane crash and ended up in a coma, do you remember?” Suddenly it all comes rushing back to me. I remember, I know who I am.
“Yes,” I say to the nurse, “I do, But I have a question.”
“Of course, ” says the nurse
“What happened to the other passengers?” I ask. “Right, you were the only survivor ”
Maybe it was just a weird coincidence that they were all in that game with me. But I had to know, how long I was in a coma. I look around, I see a calendar Day 263 I’ve been in a coma for 263 days I try to brush it off again as a strange coincidence, but I can’t shake the feeling that it was all real I get up to turn on the TV, I need to know
“Oh, you really shouldn’t get up, you might-” The nurse stops in the middle of her sentence My leg is gone The lights and TV start flickering
“You win.” The TV says in a distorted voice. The nurse is shocked by what’s happening, I am too Suddenly, everything went back to normal “That was unusual,” says the nurse
Knock knock, the door gently opens and the doctor walks in
“Hello Mr Rodriguez, we ’ re just going to perform some check ups Don’t worry, we ’ ve informed your wife and kids that you ’ ve woken up. They should be arriving soon ”
I can’t believe what I'm seeing It’s him.
The Gamemaster.
If time was like water, It would
Drip
Drip
Drip
Out of thunderous clouds, and onto your face, It would flow through your body, Through your brain, In a never ending cycle of normalcy Just like everyone else.
You'd need it, You'd crave it, You'd want it to desperately return, to fill you, to complete you, Save you from life's constant headache
If time was like water, You would be born with it, You'd need more as you get older, But you will never have enough
If we knew how much was left, We would ration, Fear, Prepare for the worst, In case we ever run out.
If time was like water, We would need it to survive, But it would have different effects on everyone, Everyone would have different experiences with it.
Maybe time is like water.
if Timew a s L i k eWater
LOGAN LEHMAN
catCIT t i ctac
English version:
Tictac, tictac, hurry up, time passes, I'm running out of breath, my steps tread the pavement, the snow splashes, the grass crushes, the leaves slide Always late for! Damn, I missed the bus How long does it take to cook? What time is it?
I don't have time.
The hands turn, I hurry, I check the watch, I manage the hours, the minutes, the seconds Time, my companion, my mentor, my enemy I am told to cherish it, to take care of it, not to waste it, that it slips away, that it passes quickly, that its value is inestimable It is omnipresent, in the corner of my head, my own obsession
This concept is relative and yet it reigns over my world, over my days, my years, my thoughts We constantly compare it to money, it has a value that can be spent, but if money separates us and stupefies us, wouldn't time do it too?
My quest is to forget it, to forget these thoughts which tell me that I should run instead of walk, that the dates go by too quickly or too slowly. I am constantly looking for these moments of peace, where time disappears, where the moment seems to freeze and I can finally breathe When I finally see the beauty of things, or my mind is calm or I feel good, peaceful; like a river that never stops flowing, calmer than the leaves that swirl in autumn And in these moments I imagine it, time I want to tell it to leave me alone, to fly in this soap bubble, which never bursts, timeless I imagine him, time, as a person; a man, tall, linear, fine, with a porcelain skin, well-groomed black hair and an English mustache He looks great, in a suit completely tailored to his size, black streaked with white lines He would be standing straight under a street lamp, illuminated by a warm yellow light, it would be snowing The snow flakes almost miraculously would not settle on his clothes, avoiding his body and dancing around his thin frame His face would be neutral but serious, not a smile, not a frown, not a shiver from the cold I will approach slowly, afraid and curious about this invention of my mind, but which makes sense, logical I ask him a simple question How can I forget you?
French version
Tictac, Tictac, presse-toi, le temps passe, je m 'essouffle, mes pas foulent le pavé, la neige éclabousse, l’herbe s'écrase, les feuilles glissent Toujours en retard celle là ! Mince, j’ai raté le bus Combien de temps de cuisson ? Il est quelle heure ? J’ai pas le temps. Les aiguilles tournent, je presse le pas, je guette la montre, je gère les heures, les minutes, les secondes
Le temps, mon compagnon, mon mentor, mon ennemi
On me dit de le chérir, d’en prendre soin, de ne pas le gaspiller, qu’il file, qu’il passe vite, que sa valeur est inestimable. Il est omniprésent, dans le coin de ma tête, ma propre obsession
Ce concept est relatif et pourtant il règne sur mon monde, sur mes journées, mes années, mes pensées On le compare constamment à l'argent, a une valeur qui se dépense, mais si l‘argent nous sépare et nous abrutit, le temps ne le ferait-il pas aussi ?
Ma quête c ’est de l’oublier, de les oublier ses pensées qui me disent que je devrais courir a la place de marcher, que les dates défilent trop vite ou trop lentement Moi je pars constamment en quête de ces moments de paix, ou le temps disparaît, ou l’instant semble se figer et que je me sens enfin respirer Ou je vois enfin la beauté des choses, ou mon esprit est calme ou je me sens bien, apaisée comme rivière qui ne cesse de couler, plus calme que les feuilles qui tourbillonnent en automne
Et dans ces moments-là je l’imagine, le temps, j'ai envie de lui dire de me laisser tranquille, de voler dans cette bulle de savon, qui ne s'éclate jamais, intemporelle Je l’imagine, le temps, comme une personne, un homme, grand, linaire, fin, un teint de porcelaine, des cheveux noir bien coiffee et avec une moustache anglaise Il tire a quatre epingle, dans un costume totalement a sa taille, noir zebree de lignes blanches Il se tiendrait droit en dessous d’un lampadaire, illuminée d’une lumiére jaune, chaude, il neigerait Les flocons presque miraculeusement ne se déposaient pas sur ses vêtements, évitant son corps et dansant autour. Son visage serait neutre mais sérieux, pas un sourire, pas un froncement de sourcil, pas un frisson à cause du froid Je m ’approcherai doucement, apeurée et curieuse de cette invention de mon esprit, mais qui fait sens, logique Je lui pose une question, simple Comment puis-je t'oublier ?
TICtac t i catc
T h e T e a m Executives
Editor-In-Chief
Head of Design
Co-Head of Design
Head of Public Relations
Editorial Team Leader
Staff Facilitator
Managing Editor
Teams
Editorial Team
Chelsea Jenkins
Louise-Blaise Reniva
Sophie Bruton
Matthew Lynn
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Leo Lottering
Logan Lehman
Design Team
Darcy Scott
Estelle Hathaway
Logan Lehman
Archy Mishra
Matthew Lynn