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Fall 2020 Edition

Special Thanks to our Fall 2020 Committee

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  • Abigail Bedard
  • Jorge Biaggi
  • Josie Bonaceto
  • Emma Germanetto
  • Tashanna Johnson
  • Paul Kippenberger
  • Mya McKinnon
  • Kaitlin Morris
  • James Ofria
  • Anna Shahbazyan
  • Meghana Vadassery
  • Isabella Vitti
  • Abigail Wing
  • Categories
    Fall 2020 Edition Poetry Writing

    Eigengrau

    -Shriya Agrawal

    Categories
    Art Fall 2020 Edition Visual Art

    Untitled

    -Shriya Agrawal

    Categories
    Art Fall 2020 Edition Visual Art

    Untitled

    -Jane Curran

    Categories
    Fall 2020 Edition Writing

    Kettle Pond

    The grass holds my feet in place while I stare back at my reflection in the glass-like surface. With each breath, the water winds up to reach out for me once again. The scents of pine and fresh earth are still making their way through the air after all this time. Not much has changed about this place, in fact, and it doesn’t seem to mind that I have. The sun still cradles me in its arms, letting me sink deeper into the comfort this little Eden offers. There’s a rope swing behind me that solemnly sways in the breeze, waiting for me to return once more as a child; clenched fists around the rough texture, with only the sweat of my palms to prove that I was scared to jump in. Although that girl will never return. I’m almost tempted to turn around and tie it to the trunk of the tree, letting it know it can finally rest. Maybe mumble an apology as if the passage of time were my fault. Suddenly the grass seems pricklier than I remember, but I still lie back in it, as if to try and soak up the last bits of memory I have here. Trying to keep at bay the knowledge that before long, the water is going to get colder as the sun sinks down.

    Virginia Preston

    Categories
    Art Fall 2020 Edition Visual Art

    Untitled

    -Shriya Agrawal

    Categories
    Fall 2020 Edition Photography Visual Art

    Rain

    -Olivia Douhan

    Categories
    Fall 2020 Edition Poetry Writing

    Liminal Linoleum

    I miss that feeling of unlimited time
    when I sat as a child
    on the bathroom floor after a shower,
    drip-drying until satisfied.
    Ivory skin— dirtier but softer then,
    no raised scars, no broken mounds
    to impede passing water beads.
    Uninterrupted dragging,
    tingling, itching.
    I tried to drip-dry yesterday,
    to unlock those pockets of endless time.
    The droplets plummeted,
    hurling themselves off the red mark cliffs.
    Cotton towel scrubbed wet body—
    flaky epidermis shed.
    Music haunted the shower and
    continued haunting after,
    keeping track of unwanted minutes.
    The floor wasn’t suited for sitting—
    no bath mat, no carelessness
    to make wet linoleum comfortable.
    No comfort.
    Clean. Mounds of broken flesh.
    Interrupted. Lint-clogged pores.
    Ivory skin turns into tusks and teeth,
    overgrown and in need.
    Picked scabs. Forgotten.
    The emery board passes by,
    takes a look,
    and hisses.

    James Ofria

    Categories
    Art Fall 2020 Edition Visual Art

    Koi and Cat

    -James Ofria

    Categories
    Art Fall 2020 Edition Visual Art

    Untitled

    -Jane Curran