The Post Grad Gazette—Feb. 13 2024

FEBRUARY 13, 2024

FEBRUARY 13, 2024 I’ve always been enamored with the idea of love.

I’ve been dreaming about love, what it would feel like, when it would happen, and what it would mean my entire life. I’ve also always been fascinated with befores and afters. I remember the day I got my first boyfriend in middle school and going home knowing it was the first time I’d get off the bus and have a boyfriend, the first time I’d cross the threshold into my house and have a boyfriend, the first time I’d put on pajamas and have a boyfriend. It didn’t end up mattering anything at all, turns out you’re the same person at 13 with or without a boyfriend, and I’d argue it’s the same when you’re 24 or 42.

But the changes still enthralled me, and I kept charting them. It’s said that to be loved is to be changed, and I wondered what that meant. I wondered after my first kiss if I looked any different.

After my first breakup I wondered if heartbreak was something worn on my sleeve, or, worse, in the middle of my forehead like an unfortunate zit. All the morning afters spent staring at myself in the mirror, seeing if I could find any love left over on my face, in the grease slicks around my nose. But like always, mar a few love bites of my youth, I was always the same girl that I had been the nights before, the days prior, the years previous.

At times, I worried if love changed us in tragic ways. Or worse, if love changed us in irreparable ways (the dramatic word I used because I am, above all else, an insufferable English major). If love gave us permanent damage, bruises that would never quite unpurple. But, at the same time, when I looked at myself and at my life, those fears seemed small in comparison to the positive way love shaped me.

It’s hard to explain but it feels like this: Love is when my mom buys me a Kit Kat every time she goes to the grocery store because they’re my favorite. Love is listening to Paul Mccartney records at night. Love is the orange part of sunsets. Love is someone thinking about you. Love is when you can close your eyes and feel your soul thudding around inside you. Love is my friends and their endless patience and kindness.

Love is listening. Love is bringing an extra bottle, just in case. Love is left over cologne on a pillowcase. Love is a book rec. Love is, at times, heartbreak and mascara stains. And love is, at other times, empathy and flutters in your chest. And sometimes love is just silent, wandering into your life one day and making itself at home.

Love can be all of it, all the time.

This issue is dedicated to love, in all its forms, all its stages, all its endless wonder. And when I think about that kind of love, I think that maybe I wouldn’t mind if it irreparably changed me. I think it probably already has in many ways.

— Rachel Loring 2

SHITS & GIGGLES

Rachel Loring

5

Hallie Cain

4

Macy Kissel

6

Sea Otter Love

Isabella Dawson

7

Through It All

Ashley Powers

9

The Subtle Art of Calling Your Mom Crying

Rachel Loring

10

Confessions of a Delusional Girl

Kiley Parrish

12

London’s Seasonal Symphony

Kiley Parrish

13

A Love Letter to London

Olivia Ginsberg

14

Say Anything

Lauren Maingot

25

Love In Bloom

Melanie Blatt

12

Melanie Blatt

19

“Yvonne”

Jorge Chabo

23

The Lover: A Collection of Poems

Joseph Farrugia

24

“A Lesson in Botany”

Hallie Cain

26

“A Full Fridge”

Caroline Bradley and Julia Raczek

20

Rachel Loring

27

Sophia Villiers

8

Madi Schultz

18

Dinner for One

Rachel Loring

22

Crush Corner

Sarah Torres

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Rachel Loring

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Rachel Loring Macy Kissel

The Five Horsemen of the Hinge Apocalypse

ARTICLES

Magic Shoes

POETRY

“Loss is the Color Purple”

ADVICE

Ask A Law Student: Dating Tips Ray’s Reading Recs

ART

Body and Soul

MUSIC

Change Is Strange Me Siento Bichota Industrious Beats

PUZZLES & GAMES

Post Grad-libs: Dream Date

COVER

Just one more Ilustrations

Executive Editors Macy Kissel and Rachel Loring 3

MAGIC SHOES

by Hallie Cain

I

have this pair of shoes.

They’re magic. They grow and change with me, like my face.

They’re really very special to me, as you can imagine, so I don’t lend them out to just anyone.

For most of my childhood, I never took them off. Until I met Mary.

Mary is the first in a string of very important people in my life, lovingly referred to as “my girls”.

Mary and I were complete opposites from the start. She was quiet and I was loud. We played different sports, had different interests, and had everything in common. I lent her my shoes to go to the movies once, and she’s been borrowing them ever since. Mary’s a grounding presence in everyone’s lives. Mary’s a great person to call when you need a reminder about how much joy can be found in all of the little things.

She will always pick up. For me, she’s been picking up for 14 years and counting. I’ll pack the shoes when I go to visit her this month, because she somehow remains an unwaveringly loyal friend while living on the other side of the world.

In my high school chem class, I got to know Ashley and thought 4

maybe I’d lend her my shoes when she came over for our first project.

Ashley is the smartest and funniest person I know, unfortunately for me who so loves to be the funny friend. I’ll never know another girl more committed to the bit.

But under that “all laughs” exterior, Ashley is secretly sappy. She’s completely trusting in a way not many people are. My friends are her friends because she trusts I’m a good judge of character. I have to agree with her. Ashley’s very rarely borrowed my shoes since high school, because she has such an unreal sense of style on her own.

In college, I met many more of “my girls”. Almost all of them.

Tori and I are the same size shoe, which made sharing easy. She’s a do-nothing-with friend and a do-everything-with friend. It’s not been confirmed but I think Tori’s love language must be quality time because she is always along for the ride or an unbelievably mundane errand. Tori will keep you company when that’s all you need… that and comic relief. If Ashley is the bit girl, Tori has the best one-liners ever.

Aside from being fabulous company, her patience astounds me. Despite always having had a lover, she has never neglected time with the girls. I’ll always admire that about her. She borrows my shoes on her way over for a five-hour hangout.

Abby at first was just Tori’s roommate, but I lent her my shoes pretty quickly after meeting her too. She’s the mushy one and the most vocally supportive person I know. I’ve heard more compliments and praise from Abby than I’ve heard from every other person in my life, collectively.

And this is probably true for every-

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one lucky enough to know her. She’s been so there for me that I can’t imagine enough words of comfort or support could ever repay the love she pours out. She wears my shoes as house shoes and performs for all of us in her living room. She feels the most, so she makes a wonderful actress, but not the best singer.

Isabelle’s feet are TINY but like The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, my shoes fit all of my girls. Isabelle is the most thoughtful of the girls.

She knows the perfect gift for every person and every occasion. Isabelle asks all the right questions and cares about the answers because your excitement is her excitement.

She might actually get a contact high from others’ joy because she is never happier than when witnessing someone’s happiness. She borrows my shoes when she attends my favorite artists’ shows with me.

Xena styles my shoes in ways no one else does. She has a million pairs of tights and socks that somehow all look cute with them. Xena has great style, and a warmth and welcoming energy like no other.

Meeting Xena felt oddly like destiny, but I think maybe everyone feels like that with her. She gets along with all types of people, so when she really loves you, it feels like you’re truly special. Xena borrows my shoes to kick my ass, thank god. Because sometimes I need it.

Every time I get my shoes back from one of the girls, they’re different. Each time they’re a little more stretched out. They’ve been so changed and filled up with love that now they’re too big. And when I meet a man one day after lending them out to all of my girls, the shoes might be too big for him to fill.

SHITS & GIGGLES

THE FIVE HORSEMEN OF THE HINGE APOCALYPSE aka the five men you will most definitely find on Hinge

by Rachel Loring

THE FINANCE BRO

THE CRUNCHY GRANOLA BRO

Name: Brad “Belford” Chadderson

Name: Kyler Zander Sycamore

Age: 28

Age: 23

Sign: I only believe in the stock market

Sign: Do you want my sun, moon, or rising?

Career: Cosplaying Leonardo DiCaprio in “The Wolf of Wall Street”

Career: Wearing atrocious shoes that are apparently better for your arches

Looking for: Someone with insider trader knowledge, or a casual hookup

Looking for: Someone to drag out of bed at 4am to hike with and help me braid my hair in a culturally insensitive way

Height: The only height that matters is the height my career will hit Hobbies/Special interests: No time for hobbies too busy on the grind, making money, investing, building an empire…oh and also coke

Height: 6’5” Hobbies/Special interests: Sun-In, hammocking, meditation, appreciating the beauty of the little things, and playing Riptide on the ukulele

THE GYM BRO Name: Maxxxxxx Age: 24

THE “ALPHA” MALE

THE “MODERATE”

Sign: The only sign I care about is the one outside Crunch Fitness

Name: @HighValueDick

Name: Tucker Christian Jr.

Age: 36

Age: 29

Career: Hogging the free weights all day

Sign: Signs are just the matrix’s way of keeping you beta

Sign: I don’t believe in witchcraft

Looking for: Someone to lift with (aka someone to film all my thirst traps for my fitness TikTok)

Career: Clawing my way up Andrew Tate’s butt millimeter by millimeter

Height: The only measurement I believe in in my muscle mass to fat ratio Hobbies/Special interests: Making plain salted chicken, cutting deep arm holes into muscle tanks so I can look slutty at the gym, and lowkey having a toxic relationship with carbs

Looking for: A high value, virgin (underage) woman with no thoughts, opinions, or goals so I can mold (groom) her into the perfect woman (child bride) Height: Intentionally left blank Hobbies/Special interests: My podcast

Career: Being socially liberal but fiscally conservative …but for sure voting against women’s rights Looking for: The mother of my future white, blue-eyed babies Height: 6’0” Hobbies/Special interests: Morgan Wallen, playing devil’s advocate…I mean if you think about it Ben Shapiro does have a point.

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SEA OTTER LOVE words and art by Macy Kissel

T

hink of your ideal girl… thick, luscious hair…loves going out to get a bite to eat… enjoys cuddling and holding hands...cares about helping the environment…and is an aquatic member of the weasel family…perfect, right? Along the coasts of the Pacific Ocean in North America and Asia lives this ideal species that you might know as sea otters.

A Day In the Life

Like myself on a Sunday, otters spend 11 hours a day resting and sleeping. They rarely sleep alone, rather in rafts, which happen when otters group together (can be anywhere from two to 100) and hold hands so they don’t float away from the pack. Otters don’t have to expend energy to float on their backs due to their fluffy float coat.

As they need to take good care of their coats to remain waterproof and buoyant, sea otters are like your type A roommate, always cleaning. They don’t have a layer of blubber like most marine mammals, instead having a thick underfur that traps air to form an insulating layer against any chilly waters.

They actually have the world’s densest fur; at its thickest, it is made up of more than a million hairs per square inch. (For reference you probably have 10,000 hairs on your head, less if you’re balding, sorry Dad). For those reasons, the pelts were extremely valuable, leading to 6

an increase in otter hunting, which put the species at near extinction.

In 1977 sea otters became protected under the Endangered Species Act — and nongovernmental organizations helped support the regrowth of the population.

Earth Day, Everyday

There is so much more to these aquatic balls of fluff than meets the eye. The sea otter is an aquatic environmentalist, an SJW queen.

The sea otter is a keystone species, which means the health of sea otters indicates the health of other species and ecosystems nearby.

They are carnivorous, munching on sea urchins and other small animals that graze on giant kelp. When urchins go unchecked, they create areas called “urchin barrens” where nothing else can live. With sea otters helping to keep the urchins under control, kelp forests can thrive and support a rich community of plants and animals.

How to Eat Your Body Weight and Still be a Skinny Queen

Otters often spend their days floating in kelp forrests, diving down when they need to eat. Sea otters may hunt on the seafloor, but they always returns to the surface to eat. They even float on their backs and use their chest as a table. In estuaries, the wide mouth of streams that meet the cold ocean, sea otters keep eelgrass healthy by eating crabs, which in turn allows

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the sea slug population to thrive.

Speaking of snacks, do you ever grab an extra treat to save for later?

Like a half-eaten cookie on your bedside table in case you wake up hungry? Sea otters do too! An otter’s coat has pockets—loose skin under each forearm (relatable)—that allows them to stash prey during a dive, leaving their paws free to hunt some more. And if you’re worried about those extra snacks catching up to sea otters, don’t worry, sea otters have a high metabolism, meaning they can stay warm (and skinny) while eating about a quarter of their body weight each day. You would have to eat 35-40 pounds of food a day to match that.

What is an article about sea otters doing in a love-themed issue?

Sea otters know about maternal love, in fact, sea otter females are some of the most incredible and caring moms. Mother otters give birth in the water and nurture their young while floating on their backs, holding their infants on their chests to nurse, groom, and eventually as a safe base while they swim and learn to hunt. Mothers often spend their entire lives with a pup. Don’t get it twisted though—while we support and love female otters, we do not stand by male sea otters.

Male otters’ aggressive and downright cruel breeding practices vicitmize many of our girly otters, and have led to

much of the sea otter misinformation on the internet. Basically, like m o s t humans, the girls are so much better.

The Monterey Bay Aquarium holds five non-releasable female sea otters. These are otters that were rescued off the coast of California and due to health issues, were deemed non-releasable and are now cared for in captivity. Behind the scenes, these females act as surrogate

THROUGH IT ALL

by Isabella Dawson

G

rowing up, I always heard about “high school sweetheart” stories and never thought I would be one of those people; but, I met the love of my life at 16 and now at 24 I love him even more than I did then.

My fiancé and I were sophomores in high school when we first met.

I was an overly confident (though secretly, morbidly insecure) girl, and he was just a cute guy I knew through friends. After drunken kisses at house parties and discovering our shared love for going to concerts, we quickly fell for each other, and it felt like I had known him deeply for ages.

Fast forward eight years, and we

into the wild to continue to bolster their habitat. In the years since the Aquarium began releasing otters to seagrass beds in the coastal wetlands have rapidly expanded — evidence of the power of sea otters to restore wetland ecosystems. mothers to other rescued sea otter pups that they raise as their own. By teaching these pups the skills needed to be wild sea otters, like grooming and foraging, the aquarium is then able to release the pups into the wild. This surrogate program has been in effect for over 15 years and hundreds of stranded sea otter pups have been rehabilitated and released back

have been through so much life together. When you meet someone at such a young age and have a longterm commitment to each other, you have to grow together throughout so many phases: starting college and deciding when you’re 18 what you want to do for the rest of your life, getting into careers you don’t know if you are happy doing, being asked a million times “when’s the wedding?!”

Luckily for us, we still love and like each other for the people we continue to change to be through these phases. Not to say that there weren’t ever any hiccups in our relationship, but we always chose each other through it all; through our younger, teenage heartbreaks and hurts to now, as we navigate the confusing, ever changing “thing” that is adulthood.

During this season of love, call your mom and thank her for raising you, loving you, and nurturing you into the person you are today.

And if you’re feeling the extra fluffy love, check out a 24-hour livestream of the otters at Monterey Bay Aquarium where you can also donate to support the program.

And I’m glad to still love him, for the man he is now, for the support and joy he brings me daily, and for the boy that he was in high school, who taught me what it was to long for someone so deeply that nothing else mattered.

I feel so lucky to have met someone early in my life who understands me innately; he can read what I am thinking just by looking at me. I cherish all our small moments at home with our two dogs, stealing kisses in the kitchen, and doing puzzles on the weekend.

I look forward to marrying him and traveling the world together.

Who knows the people we will be in 20 years, but I do know that I have found my person to go through it all with.

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Body and Soul Sophia Villiers Acrylic on Canvas 30x40”

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THE SUBTLE ART OF CALLING YOUR MOM CRYING

by Ashley Powers

I

can handle it, you tell yourself as tears escape from your eyes and run down your face. I shouldn’t bother her, you think, but then you remember that you feel better every time you call your mom crying.

Maybe it’s not your mom, maybe your tearful call is to your best friend, your therapist, a sibling, or even a significant other. Unless you’re the first perfect person to ever exist, most of us need a pressure relief valve for when life builds up inside us, and mine just happens to be calling my mom.

Breakdowns can happen for any reason, it could be a job setback, it could be problems with a significant other, maybe you’re about to start your period, or maybe you have no idea what it is.

Our feelings somehow become an overwhelming force that we can’t face ourselves. Yet, we simultaneously feel badly pulling anyone else into the emotional twister we find ourselves in. It’s hard not to feel like a burden when we call out for the help of someone else, but if the roles were reversed we know

we’d do the same for our loved ones the end of the call you feel betin a heartbeat. That’s what un- ter and wonder why you even conditional love is about anyway. doubted calling them in the first place. Finally, you can take a deep See, burdens are like a pizza or breath and carry on with your day. cake, they’re meant to be shared.

As much as we want to take them Our twenties are tough, and the on all by ourselves, I can almost thought that we’re supposed to guarantee your insides be grown up and self-sufficient will feel sicker not shar- can make needing the help of ing. Or maybe they’re others feel like a setback. But belike a large piece of fur- ing strong doesn’t always mean niture, we think we can carry it all handling it on your own, someby ourselves, but calling in a help- times it means reaching out and er makes it infinitely easier and relieving the pressure. After all, reduces the chances of self injury. letting all that pressure build is setting us up for an explosion.

So, you make your tearful calls to your person. Sometimes for advice, So let’s take it as a lesson to not sometimes just asking for someone be so hard on ourselves. That to listen. And they reassure you “perfect” person we compare ourthat you’re not a loser, and that life selves to is probably calling their can be hard but you’re doing a great mom crying too. I mean, after job handling it. For a moment you all, we’re all just twentysomesee yourself through their eyes, and thing-year-old-teenage-girls anysuddenly don’t feel so small because way. So make that call, and don’t it’s not just you facing your challeng- feel bad about it for a second bees, you have people on your team. cause even the strongest soldiers need their mommies sometimes.

Usually they can tell right away by the tone of your voice. Sometimes the first words out of your mouth manifest as sobs, but by THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

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up, I was always hyper in- problems with this approach. I’d CONFESSIONS OF Growing dependent, while also being deeply use those magical moments as my It made me constantly entire sustenance, something to A DELUSIONAL romantic. oscillate between desperately want- pin my every hope and wish and ing to love and be loved, and know- feeling on. My love, in retrospect, GIRL ing, realistically, that I didn’t need was really always just obsession

by Rachel Loring

I

’m on a first date and texting updates to my friend from the toilet.

First, the rundown: he’s cute, he paid for dinner AND drinks, he dresses good, we are now at a bar playing darts, I’m winning at said darts, he’s nice, and he also hates the healthcare system. I send my texts rapidly, filled with spelling errors and then go back out to the bar. It ended up being a good date.

I enjoyed that when I told stories he’d throw his head back in laughter. I liked that he’s a Taurus, because that’s my moon sign and Andrew Garfield said that means we’re compatible. I like that he has a fancy sounding name. It was a good date, and if I were anyone but me, hopeless, perpetual, romantic me, it would have been a really good date. A great date even.

Afterwards, I texted my friend a final summation of the evening.

Me: Date was good, but I’m not in love with him Her: That’s probably a good thing

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love. It didn’t help that I read too many romance books in my formative years and boys never really liked me in middle and high school.

Those two habits, those two conflicting traits, shaped my dating life into brief moments of intense, hopeless, painful romance and then long stretches of realism, the sobering up that usually took years. I was either 100% in love, deeply devoted or 100% single, entirely over romance, happy to “just work on myself” (the excuse all us twentysomethings use when we’re single and have no prospects).

But that habit is exacerbated by this: I tend to have really magical dating experiences. It’s weird for me not to be completely head over heels for someone after a first date.

My dating experiences were like movies, filled with meet cutes and wacky adventures and dream boys with brown hair. Like once, when a date’s car got towed and we had to get a ride from a weird truck driver whose car was littered with bottles of pee. Or the night a different date and I crawled onto his roof and saw two shooting stars (he also may have played me guitar, and sorry to be a gender traitor but I love a man playing guitar at me). I can think of half a dozen other moments like these, calling my friends and saying, it was straight out of a movie I swear.

It wasn’t until I graduated college and and totaled up the latest emotional damage from a doomed relationship when I saw fully the

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wearing a funny hat. I loved in the same way people who are drowning love water, which is to say entirely survivalist, desperate, and ultimately, not really love at all. I remember telling a friend how it felt when I was dating people, like I was turning myself inside out, with all my sensitive nerve endings on the outside and my thick skin uselessly trapped on the inside.

“That sounds really unsustainable,” she said, “and really painful.”

And she was right, for every magical movie moment, there was always the falling action. For every romantic montage there was a long, single-take shot of me sobbing on my bed or rotting on my couch for days.

There were the embarrassing, overthinking texts, the desperate pleas for effort, attention, anything adjacent to love. The deep shame from continuously embarrassing myself, from never learning a lesson.

And the worst part: coming to terms with the fact that magical moments didn’t equate intimacy, or actually promise anything at all.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I can pin my most significant relationships, heartbreaks, and delusions to major periods of insecurity, vulnerability, and confusion in my life. I tend to use love as a way to externalize and project my fears onto other people. Okay, that sounds crazy when I say it like that. Here’s what I mean: in my sophomore year of college I briefly dated a man who

was a bit older than me. He had all these friends, he was social and outgoing, and he took me out to cool bars I couldn’t legally get into. Once, I asked him why he didn’t just stay in and relax on Friday night and he just shrugged and said, “There are only so many Friday nights left.”

That was always the type of person I wanted to be. At my best, it was the type of person I was. When I was dating him, it’s the type of person I was too anxious, too type A, too wound up to be. I was 20 and experiencing anxiety for the first real time. I knew, deep down, that I should have been in therapy. I knew that random weeks of paralyzing fear were not normal to have, but I also thought, well, if someone like this guy likes me, then maybe I’m actually not all the things I worry about being (ie: anxious, scared, lonely, etc.).

I did this with all the men I dated, picking characters with traits I admired, that I thought filled in my own gaps. And I think that as much as I cared for them, I was more often than not clinging to the person I could be while dating them.

I thought that maybe loving people makes you more than just you.

Obviously, I was wrong. In fact, this approach led to desperation and a sort of inability to separate myself from the men I dated. It led me to often disregard the reality of a situation, to some of the worst cases of “I can fix him” syndrome. And the healing from that process was like waking up from a hyper vivid dream and trying to remember what was real and what was not.

It was losing not just a person you cared for, but what that person represented, what they could have

been and what, I felt at the time, they should have been with more time, more care, and more magic.

I’m not saying this to be cynical, or to imply that every feeling I’ve ever felt or shared was fake, far from it. I think the truth is those moments were deeply honest, deeply real, and, sure, there was some fundamental aspect of love in them. But I’m learning that magical moments can be just that: moments. And having strong connections with people doesn’t make them your soulmate. Just like how a man listening to the Smiths does NOT make him instantly interesting and deep (remember that ladies—that’s a big one).

I think I’ll always be a romantic.

I don’t think that part of me will ever go away, and I wouldn’t want it to. I’m proud of my capacity to love, even when it sucks. I am still happy for every intense, wreckless, stupid connection and choice I’ve made out of strong emotions.

But I’m also learning that maybe explosive, wreckless, self-destroying love isn’t really the solution, ever. Imagine this: a healthy dose of both. An unheard of thought for me, but I’m getting there.

So when my date texts me a day later and asks if he can make me dinner for the following week, I say yes, despite not loving him. And who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with him and he’ll ruin my life, or maybe I’ll ruin his, or maybe he’ll burn down his kitchen Wednesday and kill us both, or maybe he’ll just be a nice memory with or without a magical moment, and that’s just fine by me. I’m working on being a hopeful romantic after all.

CHANGE IS STRANGE move to a new city? just broke up with your significant other? growing apart from your friends? haven’t felt the warmth of the sun in months? here are some moody vibes for moody girls #IHateSeasonalDepression

PRESENT TENSE radiohead LAST MARIA ON EARTH amore THE ART OF MAKING LOVE big words DON’T KNOW HOW TO KEEP LOVING YOU julia jacklin YOUR NAME bernache ONLY WHEN I alice phoebe lou SINK INTO ME babeheaven LOVE & COMMUNICATION cat power BLACK WILLOW loma KNIVES OUT radiohead

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LOSS IS THE COLOR PURPLE

by Melanie Blatt

loss is the color purple a bruise on the heart that fades with time the pain a memory loss does not mean losing yourself every piece of you is still there maybe even more so something that once grew is now frozen moved into the museum to be remembered maybe studied but never changed and arguments only echo it is the receding tide on a toasted summer day the day was filled but the sun must now set in its wake a deep purple dusk pulls the curtains closed it happened and it is over the night is here notice the moon and the stars the gravity that we thank for existence and like loss hope is also the color purple the sun will rise

LONDON’S SEASONAL SYMPHONY

by Kiley Parrish

I

t’s easy to explain why London is so perfect in the sun. The buzz of people giggling through the streets, every inch of green space covered in picnic blankets and empty bottles of wine, and 16 hours of daylight, leaving Londoners a bit sun-kissed the next day.

But the sun is not what makes London, London. When summertime fades and one layer turns to three, London shows her truest form and becomes perfect, at least to me.

As my favorite pair of jean shorts begin to collect dust in the back of my wardrobe, the ground turns crisp, with layers of leaves covering the pavement. What used to be green now bright orange and musty yellow, twirling around in the wind. When the autumnal season approaches London becomes both brittle and welcoming. Most days, the city is gray and gloomy, sometimes as wet as a walked dog. Even on rainy days, the sun appears every once in a while to let us know she’ll be back soon. There’s something so enchanting about the pitter-patter sound of rain hitting my umbrella as the clouds fall upon me and the crunchy leaves beneath my shoes.

The trees continue to shed, becoming bare with shriveled leaves that hang on by a thread. The crispy and colorful ground reverses to its most authentic self, cement. But as autumn ends, the most wonderful time of the year begins. Holi-

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day lights cover every tudor-styled corner, Christmas markets become everyone’s Friday night plans, and the walk down Oxford Street to admire the lights above never gets old. Even though the sun sets before the business day ends, I forget to miss it as Christmas festivities take over the city. Rolling suitcases become a normal noise outside my flat window as people come and go during the holiday season.

The sight of red and green decorations are slowly disappearing, and things are going back to normal as Londoners ring in the new year.

During this season, three layers become four, with extra warmth from a hefty scarf and a beanie to bear the wind. Sometimes, the frigid temperatures above ground make me look forward to the stuffy heat that emerges from the Central Line. But even now as I freeze, cheeks rosy red, braving my city walks with a Pret coffee for warmth, the sun gradually peeks through the clouds. It’s now just a matter of time before the nights get longer, the sun gets hotter, and the city begins to miss the seasons that make London, London.

A LOVE LETTER TO LONDON Dear London, Guess who’s crashing on your couch for six months? Yep, it’s me, the 24-year-old with too many suitcases and a vague plan to postpone adulting for a while. Consider this my love letter to you, London, a city full of clouds and dreams, my temporary escape from reality.

It’s been five months since I touched down at Heathrow Airport ready to renew my Pret subscription and embrace the city I fell in love with so long ago again. London, you’re like the cool older friend who introduces me to endless art exhibits, hidden thrift shops in Shoreditch, and food platters I didn’t know existed. All I can say is, you have me hooked.

Your skyline is a chaotic masterpiece of steel, glass, and history that somehow fits perfectly. Everyone here is chasing a dream in this city of suits and ties. Gazing at the horizon above the Thames River is a daily reminder that the world is full of possibilities, relieving some of my restlessness as an almost 25-year-old without a steady nine to five.

But not everything’s about work, right? A bit like dating, your tube system is occasionally confusing and always running fashionably late, but ultimately, it gets me where I need to be. I knew I would be fine after navigating the twists and turns of the Central Line without referencing the colorful tube map plastered along the underground walls.

Let’s talk about the greenspaces you have to offer. I’d trade spreadsheets and thrifted office slacks for afternoons in Hyde Park and Greenwich any day. Sunsets at Primrose Hill and strolls along the Queen’s Walk have become my new favorite weekend plans, putting job searching on hold for just a bit longer.

Last, but not least, it’s time to address the biggest controversy of them all, your weather. You keep throwing drizzle after drizzle at me and I keep showing up for a front-row seat. Your unpredictable weather is the ultimate test, but I could get used to the symphony of umbrellas twirling around the regency-style corners forever.

London, you’re not just a city, you’re a place where deadlines can wait and job applications take the backseat. So as I enter the ‘Big Girl World’ of business cards and forced office banter, know I’ll be reminiscing about our temporary love affair. Thanks for being the unplanned chapter of my twenties.

Yours in Laughter and Oyster Card Swipes,

Kiley

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

13

Tales from a situationship every Skin is the largest organ, it’s also the most sensitive.

It’s so easily breakable.

A skinned knee, a rough touch.

I

want to know every part of your sensitive skin.

The marks and bruises.

I want to help you heal and count your moles.

By the end of us I will know every freckle, every mark,

sign

of

wear.

They say under a microscope we are almost all the same.

I don’t know if I believe that.

I think each mark and bruise changes our makeup, allows us to grow.

The body never forgets.

Sometimes I want to crawl inside your skin and test the theory out for myself.

I want you because I can’t have you.

I imagine you in a suit someday A tie. Taking your shoes off after a rough d a y.

I want you because you said, “hi”.

Your voice makes a lesser woman shake in her boots, It made my ice cream cone melt.

The remnants leaving chocolate swirls down my forearm.

I want you because you left and I couldn’t do anything about it.

Truthfully, it made me crazy It made me wild.

I chipped my front tooth that weekend.

All to retaliate.

I want you because you were mine At least I thought you were.

But every time I turned around you were hers.

Or you were his.

Everyone’s but mine.

I want you because she does.

Sometimes I imagine that we spar.

She and I are cowboys in an old film.

Grainy and black and white.

One of us makes the first move.

I

want

you because I’m supposed to.

I’m supposed to be young and hungry Always wanting more.

You are supposed to satiate me.

Quench my thirst.

I want you because I’m young.

Young and hopeful.

I haven’t seen what my predecessors have.

I still think you’ll run after me forever.

I want you because you don’t want me.

And that’s why I can’t forget you.

Because you have.

And someone needs to remember history.

There were once ribbons wrapped from me to you, and they ended in a bow around my heart.

Not once have I felt the sweet quench of water to my dry atrium.

My mother and father could never flood my heart. They were always gone exploring different parts of the Sahara.

Alone, I spent time trying to flood it myself, but I always used a broken pot.

I tried to patch it.

I even asked for help, but the dam continued to break.

I thought I found a mirage, but you were just playing tricks on me again.

Now I sit alone forced to slowly untie them and severe the knot.

Bows were once beautiful to me.

Now

all

I

see

is

So many times I have been chopped up into tiny pieces just to be sewn back together again.

restraint.

I should have known all you had were loose ends.

I left a few pieces with my dad, A few with my mom.

My lover kept his favorite pieces.

I think there may even be some pieces in my lint trap.

My

heart

is

a

desert.

There are some holes in me

t h a t not even the universe could patch up.

I try to wear heavy layers to protect them, but every so often I take them off and pieces go missing.

I’m scared one day there will be nothing left but a mole and a hangnail.

Sometimes I think of you and the way you used to always hold a lighter in your right hand.

You didn’t smoke.

But you loved the way the raised bumps felt when you flicked the flame on.

The way they scraped against your skin.

A gentle reminder that you’re still here.

I used to look at the skin on your thumb for hours.

Each stroke of the flint pulled at the fissures that created your fingerprint until you wore it down enough that a callous was created.

I loved that callous.

I wish it loved me just as much.

Just the

when plot

you give thickens.

You find yourself in a situation you didn’t think existed outside that tiny nook in your brain.

It’s all you wanted and

ever more.

It’s coffee dates and late nights and shitty poetry.

And suddenly you understand that it’s all worth it.

up,

I am here. But you just keep going with out even a look in my direction.

I wish you saw me for who I am, and not wh at I am not.

I y lover, and I am a lous e. m could fix thought you h is only I And the trut as never can fix what w n with. there to begi

I’ve been in love with you for a long time.

So long, that the thoughts have formed a uniquely ro mantic layer of aesthetic du st on them.

s told u thers’ sting. o m r ng, ou They re you bees. e w e w n e r fo Wh fferent watch ke a di old. a t s to e e s that b grow r told u we e v e n e h s t Bu rew once ngs. I g . i t s t m i r e fo venom ie onc ed to d fear of the s o p p is su In A bee ving that. tory. e i ent s l r e e b ff i p d u lls a th te u here. r t he still But t are you se Becau

The darkest pa rts of my brai n.

The parts that fill up with mur ky water, Push against my sk ull, Like the wa lls of a da m.

The dark matter rushes towards the fresh air, Hoping to be the first thought to break through.

Slithering down my spine Only to stop at my soul.

To squeeze ar ound my he art And pick up so mething raw th ere.

18

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

Dinner for One

by Madi Schultz

Watercolor and pen

@madischultzart

YVONNE

by Melanie Blatt Dedicated to Yvonne Castaños who died Jan 23rd 2024.

She was a raging fire who always knew how to put a smile on your face. so quick flicker of light dancing like it has a message trapped in its glass let me out almost at the end head slipping under Drowning the thread pulls slow and steady though the refusal to accept fate is tenacious unyielding is the light as it sucks its last breath flesh remains timer starts no sophistication can prevent the inevitable with the soul gone the carcass is empty pawing at stiffening limbs is futile the body will run cold the body is not the kinder it is the jar the container that trapped the flame can the soul be snuffed out? energy cannot be created or destroyed what tethers it now? what does it call home? or does it merely exist? identity gone molecules free to be inhaled by the living wandering light void of sound sensation sight baptism of the soul like magnets we call it home you nor me are never really alone as infinite as electrons we are the universe we cannot become less or more the soul is a gift from God

everlasting the carcass may rot but the flame within can only be freed am i even me are you even you or are we just we one part of a whole broken only to live mortal life nothing to finish nothing to do just be collecting memories like stars death is not human nor soul it is a shapeshifter eyes cannot see it is a word to describe unknown our imagination of an end we invented a state of being we apply it without meaning death is not cruel is not an enemy it is certain make friends with death walk with him and listen he understands life better than the living there’s no preventing the rain nothing will prevent pain to lose is to have had and we are designed to want want more memories more time yet all the same shelter ourselves and others from pain understand the irreplaceable in the world full of fluff people cannot be resuscitated like a phone if we break you will not find us in a store mourn for the ones you lose for time love and gratitude

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

19

ASK A LAW STUDENT: DATING TIPS Dating is confusing and, in this day and age, outright criminal. People seem to be lying, cheating, and stealing around every corner. So, we decided to ask some of our favorite almost-lawyer friends to weigh in on all our dating questions.

Let’s meet our soon-to-be lawyers: Julia Raczek, JR: Hi all! My name is Julia and I am currently a second-year law student (2L) at Indiana University Maurer School of Law. I have dreamed of being an attorney for as long as I can remember, longggg before I ever even knew what exactly it meant to “practice law.” Turns out it’s a shit ton of reading, research, writing, and pretending to know what’s going on when you don’t. In about two years, I’ll (hopefully) be a licensed litigator in the Windy City.

Caroline Bradley, CB: Hi! I am a second-year law student at the University of Florida Levin College of Law. I am in law school because I majored in international studies in undergrad and realized that wouldn’t get me a job (don’t worry, I love the law now). I wrote these answers using my best, slightly educated, guess.

Am I legally obligated to watch The Godfather on a second date?

JR: No. God help us all if the country turns to mandating a Godfather viewing on the second date.

Even more horrifying if it’s movie 20

number three. Cut ties while you still can (official legal advice).

Can I sue in emotional damages if my date ghosts me?

CB: Of course you can, angel.

This is definitely the healthiest and most rational way to handle someone ghosting you.

After consulting my sources (pg.

57 of my torts outline), I would sue your date for Intentional Infliction of Emotional Distress, aka IIED. Let’s review the case. To win (aka get money), you have to prove three things: (1) the ghoster had intent, (2) the ghoster’s conduct was extreme and outrageous, and (3) you experienced severe emotional distress.

First, intent. If we assume the guy you met on Hinge ghosted you on purpose because he wanted to hurt your feelings: easy case, intent is definitely there. But, as with all parts of dating, things are not always that simple. Instead, let’s assume the guy ghosted you on purpose, but didn’t do it to specifically to hurt your feelings (he will say that you were too good for him and he want-

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

ed to protect you.) Intent? Maybe.

I would argue that the Hinge guy knew ghosting would hurt your feelings, but did it anyway. That proves intent even if the Hinge guy didn’t write a manifesto about it.

Second, extreme and outrageous conduct. Yes. Easy case. Moving on.

Third, severe emotional distress.

This depends on you. If you are at the point of suing someone for ghosting, then I will go ahead and assume you have some evidence of emotional distress that can be used in the courtroom (journal, therapy, eye bags, etc.). I think the hard part here will be saying that the distress was the ghoster’s fault and not, like, part of your everyday demeanor.

So, if you want win, go ahead and let loose and have that mental breakdown but, make sure it’s timed well with being ghosted. Maybe post on your private story that you’re having a breakdown because you were ghosted or something, idk.

I wish you the best of luck on your case and hope you take all of your date’s money!

If I make the first move, do I have any legal protection if rejected?

JR: Hmmm. Maybe you can claim that the rejector owed you a duty of care in responding to your first move. If they responded super sassily or in such a way that caused you severe emotional distress, you could claim IIED. However, the law is unlikely to recognize a duty of care between strangers. Instead, the law recognizes duties of care between recognized relationships like parent-child, doctor-patient, spouses, and common carrier-pas-

senger. So, I suggest thinking twice before making a first move on some rando in the bar. Instead, if you want the law to protect your courageous flirting, try to date your doctor!

Help! Someone stole my heart, would that be civil or criminal court?

CB: If it was a man: criminal.

Can I sue for defamation if my ex calls me crazy?

JR: Well… there are a few technicalities that need to be addressed before it’s clear whether you’d have a tort’s case against an ex that is running their mouth: 1. An opinion is almost never considered defamatory.

2. Truth is always a defense to a defamation claim.

However, don’t give up hope just yet, because if your ex is posting online or saying to others that “you’re known to be crazy” (aka establishing a reputation of being crazy), then this could move the statement closer to being one of fact (for lawsuit purposes) in which you would need to prove that you are NOT, in fact, known as crazy. But also, who’s to say we aren’t all a littleeee crazy?

Can I get copyright on the newer, cooler person my boyfriend became after we started dating??

CB: If you can prove that he is an original work of authorship, then go off. However, this would only protect you from people trying to copy him (I’m assuming copying the boyfriend would include, like, genetic cloning.) This may cause more pressing legal and ethical issues than a simple copyright violation.

Alternatively, you could try to patent the work you did on him as a process. This would mean you would have the ability to make money off of your craftsmanship :) Do men deserve rights, like, constitutionally?

CB: Unfortunately, the constitution is pretty clear that men have rights :( Is it illegal to go through my significant other’s phone?

JR: The law considers going through someone else’s phone to be an invasion of privacy…annnnnd most existing and developing laws address the ability of a spouse to sue the snooping spouse. So not looking too hot there. The suing spouse can sue the Nosey Nellie for “intercepting private information” if they read text messages, access social media accounts, and monitor search histories without consent. But wait, there’s more! In some especially juicy cases, snooping spouses have faced criminal charges for knowingly and intentionally going through their spouse’s phone.

To be serious though, girl get out of that relationship if you feel the need to snoop. No man who hides things from you is worth risking a stint in jail!

POST GRAD DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT LEGITIMATE LEGAL COUNSEL AND SHOULD NOT BE TAKEN AS SUCH; PGG DOES NOT CLAIM TO HAVE ANY GRASP ON THE LAW!

ME SIENTO BICHOTA getting ready for a hinge date that will most likely amount to nothing but you’ll get a free buzz out of it

VAMPIROS rosalía, rauw alejandro LA COMBI VERSACE rosalía, tokischa LINDA tokischa, rosalía HAZMELO OTRA VEZ bea pelea PERRA j balvin, tokischa DELINCUENTE tokischa, anuel aa, ñengo flow GUATAUBA plan b TE PONGO MAL(PRENDELO) kali uchis, jowell & randy GATO DE NOCHE ñengo flow, bad bunny TQG karol g, shakira

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

21

22

the

LO V E R

I’d have to think about it.

R

omanticism is not what it used to be. It’s stuck in art history. Everything we think we know about love has all become just intellectualized nonsense. There’s this common trope in therapy: a man so self-aware and so vain that he thinks he can think his way out of love. Then he meets a girl.

Love is natural and real.

I

just get so bored. I want to lay awake wondering.

I want to listen t o love songs, wondering if she wants me. Then listen to s a d songs when I realize she does not.

I want to spend my days caught up in the thought of you in thigh-highs and big boots, covered in black.

We get married in our heads.

I

pictured it like this.

Somewhere outside. Somewhere tropical. Somewhere familiar. At night, clear skies, with specs of light glittered throughout. I’d have a little speech prepared. A couple words on how we met. Probably a retelling of the moment I knew this wasn’t just a fling.

If you’re ever unsure about a girl, you’ll be damn sure once you see her talking to another guy. That was the night I decided she was my girl. I’d say something of the like, fumbling around a little box in my pocket, waiting for the perfect moment. I get over my nerves. I get down on one knee. She gasps. I prop open the box. I pop the question.

She says yes. A southern wedding under Spanish moss. A ranch home with a large front porch. A couple kids. Family close by. Maybe a dog.

How would you like your coffee?

Oh,

sorry

—

just

black.

Take away my boredom. Occupy my mind. Run up my tab. Then leave me alone under the weight of my addiction. Yearning for another hit. Waiting to love again.

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

23

A LESSON IN BOTANY

by Joseph Farrugia

In full bloom my Garden has stayed stagnant For years Roses bright red, with an Occasional stabbing thorn.

Beautiful nonetheless, Sunflowers Standing tall, sheltering among My black-eyed susans, whom are Unwavering A harsh winter is coming, And all of what will be left is seeds Of plants I’ve nurtured for years Who don’t know they’ve nurtured me Just the same A harsh winter is coming in which all that will be left is seeds Seeds they have given me To plant a new lush garden where I decide I fear future gardens will never be as lush, as bright, as comforting.

New flowers will grow, but their roots will be shorter, their leaves unacquainted to my history Will I be able to love this garden Just the same?

Will this garden show me the same Grace as those before them?

I pray their seeds will bear a plush garden, Plush enough to fill the plot Left by the loving flowers I had known before.

24

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

Roses, the timeless symbols of love, carry nuanced meanings depending on their color. Red roses express passion, white symbolize purity, yellow convey friendship, and pink signify admiration or gratitude. Regardless of hue, roses are considered an iconic token of romance.

Ranunculus flowers are prized for their layers of crepe petals.

Their vibrant blooms symbolize charm and allure, making them a favorite for expressing attraction to their recipient. Ranunculus means “little frog” in Latin, named for their abundance near bodies of water in the spring.

With the graceful curves of their petals, tulips have come to signify perfect love and deep admiration for the recipient.

They also symbolize the arrival of spring and the promise of new beginnings, renewal, and growth.

Your Valentine’s Day Guide to the Language of Flowers

With glossy leaves and heartshaped blooms, anthuriums are often associated with hospitality and abundance. These tropical flowers also symbolize happiness and prosperity, and are considered tokens of good luck and protection in some cultures.

Symbols of luxury and refinement, orchids convey messages of love, beauty, and strength. As they thrive in various environments, orchids have come to represent resilience, as well as fertility and virility in some cultures.

Lilies are revered for their intoxicating fragrance and timeless elegance, symbolizing purity, renewal, and enlightenment.

White lilies, in particular, are often associated with innocence and virtue, while pink lilies convey admiration and prosperity.

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

25

A FULL FRIDGE

by Hallie Cain

INDUSTRIOUS BEATS for stimulating corporate concentration because unfortunately our productivity is tied to our (net) worth

Magnet macaroons my mom gifted me for Christmas She bought me everything French she saw that year.

BLUE GRASSLAND soulstance

Prints I bought from my artist friends.

How do I have so many artist friends?

OCEAN CITY pacific coliseum PACER jesper ryom SEASONAL BOUNTY (SMOOTH ‘94) sven van hees

A Christmas card from my sister, Signed “Love, Mary, Louise and Shane” Her boyfriend is new, her dog Louise is not.

A polaroid of my childhood best friend and I That has magically made the move every year since it was taken.

But will never outlast the friendship.

LOWDOWN aleksandir A NEW ERROR moderat US haring

My cousin’s wedding invite Designed by my other cousin because they’re basically sisters Whose date has come and passed.

Photo booth strips of me and my girls Some at random bars Many from one of the girls’ weddings.

We smooch in almost every one.

A mini pasta magnet To match the ones I bought for two friends.

A last minute trip souvenir from an airport gift shop.

DEBOLD vegyn PACIFIC REASONS body-san PORCO ROSSO sunflwr

A birthday card from Abby A “welcome home” card from my aunt A Halloween card and a five dollar bill from Gamom She wanted me to make witches hat cookies like we used to, But has no idea how expensive New York is.

There’s no space left on my fridge But I’ll make room for you.

26

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

I

know I’m late to this train. But, since Dolly just had a new release, it’s always worth revisiting her past work!

Everything I Know About Love is for the girls who are unlucky in love, who drink too much, say too much, and care too much. It explores romance, self-love, sex, men, late nights, hangovers, partying, FOMO, and (most of all) enduring and important female friendships. It’s about the ups and downs of your twenties, discovering yourself, finding empathy for others, and recognizing how love binds us in the crucial, messy, and difficult times of our lives.

Ray’s Highlights: Dolly’s breakdown of intimacy vs intensity (a breakthrough for me too, Dolly).

N

othing beats a good old-fashioned love story, except maybe a real one. Modern Love is a wonderful collection of editor Daniel Jones’ favorite submissions to the New York Times Modern Love column.

Modern Love tells stories of near misses, loss, grief, life, hookups, embarrassment, first dates, and the stuff in the middle we call love. It’s real, it’s messy, and it’s a reminder that there is no perfect; there is only being a human and trying your best to love and be loved. It’s a great way to get into short stories and essay collections, being both entertaining, accessible, and relatively short. Plus, many of these stories have been adapted on Amazon Prime as episodes, so it makes a great companion piece.

Ray’s Highlights: “Loved and Lost? It’s Okay, Especially if You Win” by Veronica Chambers is my favorite story. It’s equal parts funny, raw, and reassuring.

W

hoops! I’m also late on the Emma Cline train, I KNOW!

This might be a seemingly random pick, but bear with me. What is love if not obsession? What is girlhood if not a shared delusion--a cult of desires, dreams, and deep yearning for belonging? This book has some of the most poignant quotes about girlhood, power, sex, and love I’ve read in a while, coupled with 1960s imagery and, because why not, a cult. I couldn’t stop underlining, nodding out loud, and at times, feeling wildly called out by Emma Cline’s writing.

Ray’s Highlights: Cline’s PHENOMENAL, vivid, in-the-moment, and hyper-specific prose. And, to the man on Goodreads who said it was bloated, to you I quote Cecilia Lisbon: obviously…you’ve never been a thirteen-yearold girl.

THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024

27

PUZZLES & GAMES DEPT.

POST GRAD-LIB It’s Valentine’s day and you have a very special date!

Fill in this special Post Grad Mad Libs to reveal your dream date!

P.S.Write down your answers first before looking at the puzzle!

2/1/24, 12:32 PM

Mad Lib Maker

Dream DateDATE Mad Lib DREAM It’s a very NAME

ADJECTIVE

night and you’re getting ready for date number

! They have bright

on your most sexy BODY PART

COLOR

ARTICLE OF CLOTHING

eyes, , which is

ADJECTIVE COLOR

hair, and drive a ,

PATTERN

, your best feature! Your date arrives with a bouquet of

They’re taking you to ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGE

man with a(n)

RESTAURANT

, the fanciest spot in town! At

(s) and a side of raw

INSTRUMENT

puts their hand on your

appears and sings you

BODY PART

can come in. You’re feeling you want to take this to the

ANIMAL

ADJECTIVE

NOUN

BODY PART

, hot! You put

ADJECTIVE

in their hand. Awww so sweet! you order

NUMBER

. Your date has a surprise for you and requested live music! A . You swoon. Dinner goes well, your date even

SONG TITLE

PLURAL VERB

you home, and asks if they

so you say yes. Things are getting hot and heavy and your date asks if

ROOM OF HOUSE

kiss on your

, and accentuates your

at the table! After dinner, your date

EMOTION

with your dream date,

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION

SAME RESTAURANT

. You do, and your date gets all the way to

naughty you! Your date has to head out, they have an early flight to a(n)

NUMBER

and tell you they’ll

with a big smile on your face, that was the most

ADJECTIVE

PLACE

ORDINAL NUMBER

base,

tomorrow. They leave you with

FORM OF COMMUNICATION

you tomorrow. You go to bed

date ever!

Enjoy the best of The Post Grad Gazette, curated by our editors.

TO SCANMORE READ

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THE POST GRAD GAZETTE, FEBRUARY 13, 2024