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PHOENIX2014 - Volum
e 30TH
EPHO
ENIX
2014 ~ Volume 30
THE
Townsend Harris High SchoolTHEPHOENIX Volume 30 - 2014
© Townsend Harris High School 2014All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means without authorization from the publisher or owners of submitted materials.
Inquiries should be addressed to:Rafal OlechowskiTownsend Harris High School149-11 Melbourne Avenue Flushing, NY 11367
Adobe ® InDesign ® and Photoshop ® are either reg-istered trademarks or trademarks of Adobe Systems Incorporated in the United States and/or other countries.
All artists, authors, and photographers maintain complete ownership and copyright over their respec-tive submitted materials.
Cover Photo “The Road” by Adrienne Lee
OUR
STAF
F Editors-in-Chief: Yelena Dzhanova ‘15Jillian Panagakos ‘14
Art Editor:Anna Kim ‘15
Literary Editor:Anthony Budwah ‘14
Photography Editor:So a ilonas ‘14
Layout Editor:egan Pa ke ‘14
Business Manager:K istine uillaume ‘16
Staff:Oth ia Ahmed ‘15Sangida Akte ‘17P iya Amin ‘16Eunice Baik ‘16Nicolas Ba ios ‘17Ad ienne a al ‘16Emily han ‘17Jenne hen ‘15Sa ina heng ‘17Anthony hia enza ‘14
uazzam howdhu y ‘17e esa Deely ‘16
A doulaye Diallo ‘16Noel Du ‘17Joanne Han ‘15Sa ina Hossain ‘17Janice Im ‘16Sa ah I al ‘15Pa ina Kaewk a ang ‘15
a ie Kessel ‘17Ashley Kim ‘16Jason Lall ee ‘16Ad ienne Lee ‘14And ea Li ‘16A zu eha in ‘16
ahnoo i za ‘14Fahim Nousad ‘16Anna Nowogo ski ‘16Linda OuYang ‘17
ichelle Pao ‘17Dev ani Paul ‘17Shivani P a hu ‘17Sumona Rahman ‘17
ahi a Raihan ‘17asey Ramos ‘17
A ygail Ram e sad ‘15Alleg a Santo ‘15Joshua Singava a u ‘17
la isse am ‘17David a owin ‘16
This edition of The Phoenix is dedicated to old and new alike:
to those who walked the halls of Townsend Harris in the past,to those who lug bookbags up six flights of stairs each day,
to those who dreamed big and accomplished much,to those who shoot for the sky, aiming to land among the stars,
to those who set the example for the future,to those who are the future,
and finally to those who first gave a breath of life to The Phoenix in 1985,and to those who continued to keep it alive for the next thirty years.
THEPHOENIX is proud to announce the winners of our annual contests.
Photography Contest
1. Year of the Horse by Adrienne Lee ‘142. Blue Eyes by Hallee Pell-Brown ‘163. Peggy’s Cove by Rachel Wong ‘16
Writing Contest
1. Ceramic House by Jason Lalljee ‘162. “Okay” by Casey Ramos ‘173. “On Being a Girl” by Andrea Li ‘16
Art Contest
1. Bicycle by Sammi Kwok ‘142. Quicksand by Lianna Rada ‘163. Hogwarts by Jane Zheng ‘16
Editors’ NoteThe creation of art of any kind is rarely ever done at the hand of a single person. Sure, it is usually executed in solitude, carefully crafted to the point of near perfection as the artist exposes a piece of their soul to the outside world. However, this can only be possible after a lifetime of family mem-bers, best friends, acquaintances, and encounters with “that-one-guy-on-the-street.” It takes an abundance of breathtaking moments and memorable experiences to make someone really stop and pay attention to the world. The mission of The Phoenix this year was to expand opportunities for creative life throughout not only the Phoenix community, but throughout Townsend Harris as a whole.
We created this year’s issue with the intention of highlighting the unique talents of the current student body as well as the dedication to creativity of Townsend Harris students over the entirety of the publication’s existence. We know and appreciate that art lives and breathes; it deserves a place in which to thrive amongst a community of students who are sometimes excessively focused on numbers. This issue reflects not only the potential for unique, creative talent among the current student body, but also that The Phoenix has been a haven for creativity over the past thirty years. - The Editors
The Phoenix: Celebrating 30 Years
WRITING FEATURE: SARAH IQBALWRITING FEATURE: SARAH IQBAL
ART FEATURE: MARIE KESSELART FEATURE: MARIE KESSEL
Untitled, artJanice Ho
The Woods Would be Lovely, poetryJason Lalljee
Strange Love, poetryiki a Khalid
Untitled, photographyichelle Gan
Untitled, artJanice Ho
Year of the Horse, photographyAdrienne Lee
Repetition, poetryAbygail Ram ersad
Momento, photographyAsia Ace edo
Alcoholic, poetryAlcoholic, poetryBea a Warchol
Untitled, photographyAdrienne Lee
Peggy’s Cove, photographyRachel Wong
Getting Home, poetryAn hony B dwah
Untitled, photographyKari ocolano
Untitled, artS maiya iah
All the Little Lights, articole an
Clavicle, artS maiya iah
Untitled, poetryKa ie W
Ode to Spring, poetryGleb Za lano
Untitled, photographyAdrienne Lee
Untitled, artUntitled, artJanice Ho
Shipwreck Queen, proseAllegra San o
Road, photographyAdrienne Lee
Deciduous Summer in ottava rima, poetryJason Lalljee
TABLE OF
Untitled, art (cont.)Janice Ho
Year of the Horse, photography (cont.)Adrienne Lee
Momento, photography (cont.)Asia Ace edo
Peggy’s Cove, photographyRachel Wong
Shipwreck Queen, prose (cont.)Allegra San o
TABLE OF CONTENTSOkay, poetryCasey Ramos
Blue Eyes, photographyHallee Pell-Brown
On Having an Existential Crisis at the Age of Six, poetrySarah bal
ART FEATURE: ANGEL SONGART FEATURE: ANGEL SONG
Lumen, artLumen, artS maiya iah
Untitled, photographyichelle Gan
Candy Colored Clothes, poetryheodhora hes ollari
Beholder, photographyAsia Ace edo
Empty Pockets, poetryAnonymo s
Will You Be My Company, photographyicholas Rahim
Coconut Curry Soup, poetrySarah bal
Untitled, photographyKari ocolano
Untitled, artAnna Kim
Untitled, artajila Zaman
Untitled, artAnna Kim
Untitled, photographyel hine Zheng
PHOTOGRAPHY FEATURE: SOFIA MILONASPHOTOGRAPHY FEATURE: SOFIA MILONAS
Bicycle, artSammi Kwok
My Window, proseMy Window, proseAn hony Chiaren a
Untitled, photographySo a ilonas
Violent Delight, proseAsia Ace edo
Little Red Riding Hood, artO hria Ahmed
It Is Inherently True That Money Talks, poetryoel
Untitled, poetryAnonymo s
Untitled, poetryKa ie W
Changeling’s Lament, poetryJason Lalljee
Untitled, artJanice Ho
Okay, poetry (cont.)Casey Ramos
Blue Eyes, photography (cont.)Hallee Pell-Brown
Untitled, photographyichelle Gan
Will You Be My Company, photography (cont.)icholas Rahim
Untitled, photography (cont.)Kari ocolano
Untitled, art (cont.)ajila Zaman
THEPHOENIX: Celebrating 30 Years
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My fondest memory is working with the students on the first issue of The Phoenix. I was working only with freshmen, which was highly unusual for a high school, yet the end result was a demonstration of working from the heart with the spirit of fresh voices.
I am proud to have been the advisor that guided the liter-ary publication of THHS back to life.
- Frank Polizzi (Advisor ‘85)
“
”
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“ ha e lo s o grea memories. remember lo s o grea edi orial eams iane B chal er and Keren
Sharon anabelle gnes and aris-sa Kinsey y Ocam o and Claire
ao elanie riedman and Be h Ponso adia Ahmed Jess S inosa and Adrienne a eo. here were ama ing oe ry readings wi h eo le j s s e ing o i and knocking i o er he wall. And lo s o la ghs. el like being in a ra ack where he la ghs were always accom anied by he ha y s r rises o ar and oe ry
and c ion. Lo s o con rib ors and edi ors are making heir mark on he world o le ers like Aleksandra K s and
a Ri lin- adler and h-iahera rse. he kids always s r-
assed my e ec a ions or ar and so l.
he Phoeni along wi h he Classic are he mos im or an en ironmen s in he h mani ies ecosys em o he school. y a roach o being ad i-sor was a li le absen minded den-mo herish always lo ed ha kids who had o her in eres s whe her i was s or s h man righ s or m sical hea er wo ld s bmi as onishingly
accom lished work. Long may rise.”
o ert Ba stock dvisor
“ wasn n il ook some o Bob Babs ock s classes ha knew wan ed o ge more serio s abo wri ing a he ime he was he ad isor or . He s an incredible ar is ic men or o his s den s m gra e l ha was one o hem.
As bo h a con rib ing wri er and an di or- n-Chie o he maga ine
re ired a lo o crea i e j ice. go o wri e oems see hem raised or orn a ar - which
ha ened j s as o en by o her edi ors on he board or-gani e he ow o li erary and ar is ic works in he maga ine i sel and de-
sign he layo . When we co ldn nd an a ro ria e image o go wi h he wri ing d hesi an ly ol n eer
my own ho ogra hs which when a ro ed by he o her edi ors ended in he blica ion. s rare and incredibly rewarding o be in ol ed in a rojec on all crea i e le els rom he wri ing o he oe ry and aking o he ho ogra hs o he selec ion o works o n dging he e and ho os o he selec ion
o he y e ace o sing odge and B rn on ho ogra hs ha re ired o ch- be ore rin ing.
hinking is good b kee doing - kee doing - kee doing. o yo r ery bes in doing so yo will make
mis akes learn and ge e onen-ially be er. os im or an s o
asking ermission o aim higher.” - drianna ateo Editor
“Long may The Phoenix rise.”
“It’s rare and incrediblyrewarding to beinvolved in a project on all creative levels”
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FaceValerie Cheng (Volume 28)
“ here is some hing more o li e han j s he m ndane ro ine o e eryday. As we age i seems like he ligh ha once sed o b rn er en ly inside begins o icker and slowly die down. aims o hel heir members
main ain heir crea i e s iri s as hey edge closer and closer o he hresh-old o ad l hood. hey are a comm ni y o wri ers ar is s ho ogra hers m sicians and indeed anyone wi h crea i e ision and a as e or ingen i y. he blica ions ha arise rom his gro are r ly ins iring beca se hey
are re resen a i e o heir imagina ion and enaci y. Sadly hese ali ies are increasingly rare o nd in an a erage high school eenager.
enise o les Editor
The Word Denise Robles (Volume 28)
The sticky feel of summerHung heavily in the air of the carLike a pair of moth-ridden curtainsThat refused to be removedMy cousin occupied the back seatDespite our small statures,We managed to take up the whole space.Our ebullient laughter was barely heardOver the incessant chatter of the grown-ups.As we arrived at the dwellingMy cousin poked me. Her untamed hair Tickled my pondering as she whispered:
“If you say stitch, But with a ‘b’Instead of ‘st’,It’s a bad word.”
I bit my little pink lip And uttered it.
It was only a murmur,But it resonated through the car.Reticence ensued and I was suddenly Under surveillance.A wave of shame flooded meAs I felt their unbelieving eyesAnd the guilt I feltCould have been comparableTo that felt by an accidental murderer
And that was the first time I cursed
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“As a s eciali ed school many o o r s den s e ressed in eres s in mos o he ar s rom crea i e wri ing o ain ing dance e al. A school wide eriod-
ical seemed a mos a ro ria e ehicle or s den s and s a oo o share heir crea i e e or s. is a signi can ins r men s or ing and
highligh ing o r H mani ies rogram. he many awards garnered by he maga ine and by indi id al s den s ar ici a ing in his ac i i y ha e been im or an o elec i e co rses which mo i a e and rod ce en ries and o he school s recogni ion in he larger comm ni y. We were or na e rom he s ar o ha e an en h sias ic ad isor and a coo era i e and res onsi e s a and s den body eager o con rib e.”
r argmann Princi al
Old Man Jack Bouba (Volume 18)
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Love Note to BaudelaireAdrianna Mateo (Volume 24)
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“ hink any ar is can a es o his here is no hing i e like being abo o eel a hing in yo r hands like he gloss o a Phoeni co er ha once j s
li ed in yo r head. o in he leas beca se i con rms ha or all heir cl nk-ing some imes he gears here shi smoo hly in o lace. S range how he head s so o en a R be Goldberg machine b some imes all he ss is
wor h i when he marble dro s s arely in o he c .
don regre any o my high school choices b wonder occasionally wha wo ld ha e ha ened i had de ia ed rom he s ric co rse d se or mysel . go o college and reali ed ha while d been biding my ime g r-ing o whe her wri ing was some hing wan ed o rs e o her eo le had been signi can ly more en er rising. s ose i doesn really ma er when yo g re some hing o beca se e eryone ends o end in he same
lace i hey re r ly in eres ed in some hing and mo i a ed o rs e i down any n mber o rabbi holes. B i yo re willing and bra e yo don need o be wai o be c ed in o crea i i y by some grand li e ges re. o ha e all he ime yo re willing o make.”
ennifer ersten Editor
“ he Phoeni was robably one o he i no he bes hing o ha e come o o my high school years. a gh me how a blica ion works as well as re-s onsibili y and some Pho osho skills. Beyond ha ho gh he comm ni y ha s rro nds he Phoeni is incredible.
he mos rewarding ar o he comm ni y is robably ha i is a gro o like-minded in he sense ha we all lo ed li era re ar and crea i e wri ing
eo le channeling he orce o heir crea i i y in o a ma erial mani es a ion o i .”
Clare ao Editor
“the community that surrounds The Phoenix is incredible.”
THEPH
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he Phoeni was a cri ical ar o my high school e erience. A lo o eo-le lea e ownsend Harris wi h memories o s r ggling hro gh im ossible
amo n s o school work r nning in gym class and heir weird riends. hese oo were in egral o my e erience b he Phoeni really sha ed he way
remember my a erschool e erience my o side-o - he-classroom memories. inishing class o go o a room ll o en h sias ic li erary nerds s ch as mysel
was a ni e e erience ha is hard o c l i a e anywhere else wi h he same n r ring and cons r c i e en ironmen . y lo e o books oe ry and all o her li erary orms wo ld no be as dee i i were no or he Phoeni . atherine omin ue Editor
Playing Much and Saying Nothing Nina Mozes (Volume 20)
That first day
Standing sheepishlyBefore an acclaimed petite flutist
With lungs like a whaleAnd sound that traveled miles
I picked up my instrument and tripped on aJumble of notes.
She told me that my technique wasAmazing
But then asked,“Where’s your voice?”
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Life’s BalletKatherine Dominguez (Volume 27)
I cannot dance well,but Earth keeps pirouetting.
I will keep trying.
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Untitled Erica Eisenstein (Volume 8)
Wish I Was Your VicodinJoann Lee (Volume 23)
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“Crea ing ar is like shing or he ho gh s ha er away in he mind. lls hem in slowly so ha hey can ake heir ime ma eriali ing in o an abs rac ion as bea i l as i s original orm.
akes a ar ic lar orm o a ience howe er o wai or he ieces ha are he closes o how i e is ed in he mind a y e o raw dedica ion ha only grows s ronger when shed o i s limi s. B ha a ience reels in
crea ions ha are e en more bea i l han he mos recio s diamonds. lea es behind magni cen ieces o ar ho ogra hy and wri ing ha s eak direc ly o he reader le ing hem e erience hem as he ho gh s ha hey once were.
hose gems o a res less mind are hen s o ed by he ndying s a o he Phoeni a collec ion o h mans acked wi h knowledge ha ake ar in he crea ion o ar on a normal basis. hey s end ho rs ni icking n il hey
oge her a book ha sim la es he many arying ho gh s eelings and e eriences ha oa s in he mind o he crea or.
o no only be a crea or o hose abs rac ions b also a collec or o he ho gh s o o hers has gi en me an insigh in o he de hs o he minds
o my eers. now am able o see o hers no only as how hey are b also as a collec ion o he ho gh s ha hey ha e ca gh and hen released in o he world. s an e erience ha has grown rom a sim le knowledge o a ersis en re rising rom i s own ashes among he ho gh s ha swim in my
mind.”
nthony Budwah Editor
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“ is my grea leas re and honor o be he Ad isor o he Phoeni crea i e comm ni y. his year marks a remarkable miles one in he his ory o he maga ine--i s 3 h iss e. am h mbled by he o or ni y o walk in he oo s e s o my redecessors rank Poli i Helen Ri o arah Khan and Rober Babs ock. arly in he Phoeni days hey se a golden s andard ha we can only dare o as ire o a daily reminder o o r school s mo o ad as ra
er as era.
y rs enco n er wi h he Phoeni was hro gh one o i s readings. rans-erred o HHS a ew mon hs earlier and nos algia or my re io s school colleag es and s den s re en ly isi ed my ho gh s. Howe er when r. Babs ock in i ed me o ha my rs Phoeni reading o nd a welcoming and crea i e gro o s den s and ac l y. his e erience ga e me ho e or nding mysel a home again.
n he las ew years he Phoeni maga ine and more im or an ly he com-m ni y ha crea es i grew beyond my wildes e ec a ions. he ali y and
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range o s bmi ed work s eaks o he many alen s o r s den s ossess. n he recen years we ha e managed o ri le he amo n o ages and more han do ble he amo n o Phoeni members. am deligh ed o see more reshmen joined he maga ine s a han e er be ore. Perha s he bes es a-men is his year s edi or-in-chie Jillian Panagakos who has been on he s a o he maga ine since her rs year a HHS. She is s or ed by a j nior elena ahno a and a so homore Kris ine G illame as j nior edi ors. A r e es amen ha he Phoeni has become a lace or e eryone.
hank yo or s or ing his year s Phoeni . is a lly nancially inde en-den s den organi a ion. All rin ing e enses con es ees con erence cos s and -shir s ha e been ossible by he hard work o he en ire Phoeni s a by raising more han 3 his year alone. am ins ired by o r s -den s sense o inde endence. ow read and enjoy.”
afal lechowski dvisor
The Milky WayJane Soliternik (Volume 28)
I write because sometimes feelings need to come out in messy bursts that are just barely coherent enough for others to read. Always painting my mental pictures with someone else in mind, I'm trying to give back to anyone who has ever helped me grow. I strive to learn things about my-self and human nature that are far too complex to account for in a few simple stanzas, though that will never stop me from attempting to get it all down. I write based on observations, playing with perspectives and often finding that masses of once-foreign faces can be like jars of loose change: if you root around enough through the dulled gray, you're likely to stumble across a few copper pennies.
writing featureSARAH IQBAL
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Orange Juiceisembodied oices led hea ily ringed ngers
nail olish chi ed a he i s waggled owards me in he mos disa ro ing o ashions and i inde ngers ac ed
as he sole re resen a ions o emo ion han e ery ber o my mo her s beingmay ha e been roo ed in s ern chiding
beca se “ ara se a glass don be so wild ”as drink orange j ice s raigh rom he car on
he only sol ion or my insolencea row o s o less glasses res ing by he ridge o ered as selec ion
o whome er was considera e eno gh o no sla her sali aon he s o o he orange j ice
and my hands were er e ally coa ed in soa y wa ersince who else wo ld clean he l y glasses a er he ac and erha si wo ld ha e been bro gh o a en ion ha here was only one erson
sing he orange j ice glasses here ore one ersondrinking said orange j ice and my cracking hands we or some hing
o be in disarray so erch on he edge o my ain s la ered wooden able e ery morning “si on a chair ara
yo don wan any hing s icking o ha dress ”aking care o wear only he dee es o bl es whi es s ained
ermanen ly orange and g l he swee li id s raigh rom i s li le whi e bo licking he s are dro s on he edges gloa ing
a no one in ar ic lar he only downside o drinking rom he car on being ha concen ra ion is key
any shi in a en ion ca sing cascades o orange nec ar o s lash on he gro nd and s ill ha e races
o an orange ddle mingling wi h he able ain rom when yo walked in o my ki chen ha morning
grin coa ing yo r ace in a way ha old me hahere wo ld be no nger wagging here was eno gh room in he ridge
or wo car ons o orange j ice.
SARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALTH
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writing feature
Grief is just another name for the time it takes to feel normal again. ll gi e yo en b cks o sa e me.ll gi e i o yo in dir y ar ers
i yo ll all in o my ils and work yo r way back o wi h yo r inde ngerhanging on o he bel loo o my jeans.ll gi e yo e b cks a bi o lin
and some old chewing g mi yo back all he li le iecesyo cked away inside he wais band o yo r nderweare ery ime called yo on he honeand we s ayed silen or a li le while.ll gi e yo si y- e cen so b y me a c o black co ee
and o r i all o er my handsso ll inch e ery ime hi a keyand my minimalis oe rywill ne er so nd he same again. will gi e yo absol ely no hingi yo do absol ely no hing
rn on yo r heel and b yyo rsel yo r own c o co ee.o can add oo m ch s gar
and s ar walking in he o osi e direc ionwi h all my ieces in yo r ockewhile ry and climb o o my eyes a ermaking a ro e wi h all ha lin in my ocke .
There’s a Lot Going On, I GuessWhen eo le ell me ha some hingse is beyond h man con rolhey re s ally owering o er me holy book in hand
while nod solemnlyand hink o we sand. was e years old he rs ime he ocean cons med meand ben my skinned knees in o sal y wa erlooking as he body r ling se en y ercen o ar h s s r ace en elo ed me in a ba ism ha no man o God co ld er orm in a holier manner and remember hinking ha no hing else sho ld be ca able o s ch ower.A er ha d wade in o de hs e ery S ndayna raid o na re
b newly erri ed o any hingha co ld sim la e i . n he momen s be ore yo s ar o anicyo eel he ress re mo n like wa es in a lace where no amo n o si honing co ld hel yo clear i awayand no ries has e er old me ha hings inside my headcan be classi ed as ‘o side my con rol or ha j dgmen is meas red in he b ild o ar iclescollec ing on he o s o ho gh s ha ha en s en eno gh imebeing screened wi h es ioning.
ery morning ge o o bed and walk in o d sand i s hard o oc s on dee brea hingwhen yo re losing hingsin yo r own sea o nonsense.Some imes hear my cell hone ringingwhen know i s on silenand imagine icking i o hear someone s soo hing oiceon he o her line and hey wo ld say
SARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALTH
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s okay baby know i ook yo wen y min es o ge o o bed his morning and ha yo ried ge ing dressed
wi h he hea iness o mo n ainson yo r scrawny sho ldersand knowha yo re rying o crea e yo r own religion
o o nearly drowningso ha yo can ha e an e c seo kee s e ing back in o he wa es.here are imes when i is easy o drown in he absence
o ano her body beside yoand he only sal iness resen hereis he kind s reaming down yo r aceand yo nd yo rselr nning owards anyone who ll s and in ron o yo or e secondsso yo can brandish yo r scabby kneesand beg hem o heal yoBeca se in he real world here are no gold s ars or ge ing o o bed
and yo migh ha e o was e a lo o days a he beachwai ing or someone o ask why yo r knees ne er heal o er and yo re le
es ioning yo r religiono shells and sal wa er reali ing ha here s a h ge ga ing hole in he middle o yo r lo ely beach and all he sand is r nning o .Peo le ell me ha here are hings o o my con roland don go o he beach anymore since mass s ar s a en and don ask any es ionsbeca se maybe miracles j s ake ime.
writing feature
SARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBAL
Worms don’t handle stomach acid very well.
When my dad alks abo grilling s eaks or dinner hink abo going o side wi h him and
c rling my ngers ndernea h he coals so can nders and wha my a n means when she ells me
ha her boy riend rea s her like a iece o mea .
wan o scoo he charred remains o my eshand eed i o he neighborhood ca s so hey can nders and
why s h mans are always walking aro ndwi h bi er as es in o r mo hs and whi e kn ckles
sho ed dee in o a ered ocke s.
wan o ram le an hills and make he ear hndernea h my ee nders and or once wha i s like
o ha e e ery hing eel less han solid when he gro ndrns o icksand b doesn ha e he decency
o swallow yo whole in one g l .
wan he ear h o regre ing me in a sinkholeonly e ee dee so ha m s oca ing b j s barely
and can see he soles o shoes carrying on wi h heir dayswhile my mo h is lled wi h worms and dir
and swallow my silence and ho e some hing bea i lwill hri e in he i o my s omach ins ead.
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writing feature
Makeup Test hey wan yo r o nd o esh in n mber orm
be ore he sys em knocks or re rib ion. Cower yo do be ore a s liced iece o dead rees reams o knowledge ha ing eroded a groo eby assing long erm memory si es by a hand s bread honly o ow ran illy o he o her ear. o r awareness o men al dehydra ion al ersn il yo e nished wri ing yo r name on he age
and yo gh a lonely ba le wi h hal a shee s wor h o crossings-os omach ro es ing he lack o any o her “s i able” imeo j ice yo o da es s ooned in o yo r mo h in 4 min e in er als. hey enjoy s icking corr ngers down yo r hroa
in he ho es o bringing back hal -chewed ocab lary.hen ha ing wr ng yo dry hey send yo o
or he ne orce- ed meal.
SARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBALSARAH IQBAL
I Don’t Want You Wearing Someone Else’s Genes
hey say silence can make yo lose yo r mindas er han yo r car keys
and whi e noise echoed in he s ace be ween my earsas held my brea h n il my li s ma ched he chea r le
hols ery o he wai ing room chairs.
O r hear s a em ed esca e ia o r rib cageswhile she shi ed her body agains cr m led e am able a er
my ngers crossed so igh ly eared migh go hro gh li eermanen ly signing he le er ‘R
and didn know i ha cold gel ac ally made he goose b m sha rose on her belly s ell o ‘ lease
or d j s disco ered a new me hod o rayer.
ha e l raso nds. ha e hem beca see ery ime we see an em y gri y screen hink
abo how my readiness obli era es any concei ables here o do b while her body de es her mon h a er mon h.
y nigh s are assed in imaginings o kisses lan ed on a swollen belly joking abo
swallowed wa ermelon seeds my only concernbeing wha as el colors ll ain yo r room wi h. sho ld be ner o s abo aking care o yo r iny
shri eled sel ins ead o whe her ll be ableo e er ck yo in o he crook o my arm a all.
don wan yo wearing someone else s genes wan yo o ha e my hick mess o hair
he shock o green eyes assed downas blessings rom rela i es yo were oo la e o mee .
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writing featurewriting feature
don wan o hink o yo breaking some o her g y s armwhen m eaching yo o lay baseballe en ho gh we d be he only wo eo le in he ark.
o don make babies in las ic c s nder microsco es wi h i e es in hand.
o make hem wi h lo eregardless o wha yo ll learn in heal h classand all he lo e has gone o o yo r makingand yo e become an im ossible asklike rying o c wa er ha kee s ricklinghro gh yo r ngers no ma er how m ch
we beg i o s ay and all ha beggingmo ed my hear in o he wrong lace.
can hear he crying a nigh in he ba hroomhe bo les o ills ha m l i ly in he c boardshe romises “ his one will work swee hearhe doc or said so.” don r s anyone who s beeno medical school don r s mysel o s ay sane
slee ing ne o her when know ha he n mbersdon line he chemis ry doesn mi we can ne er ha e he only hing need rom his li eand m sorry yo wo ld ha e lo ed her b need yo more han yo need her when yo are older yo will nders and ha my hear righ now is sha eredin o a million ieces only able i yo re wearing my genes.
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UntitledJanice Ho
The Woods Would Be Lovely Jason Lalljee
old yo ha wan ed o walk along he rain racks a s nseWo ld yo ollow me hro gh he syl an a h yo swore yo d ne er cross
he sca ered a mn lea es hid he iron sha s wo ld yore end ha hey weren here
J s so ha d ha e yo r hand o hold as he dis an smoken rled o ma e wi h clo ds
can see yo now eering hro gh he sli s be ween yo r ngersas yo dare no o look
B wo ld e liked s bo h o see he ear h o en and swallow he s n a las ime.
en i he es ion ne er esca ed my li s yo d know wha was abo o ask
By ha as hy ia ing momen when o r en wined hear s wo ldbea in sync
When o r eyes wo ld mee and he world wo ld dissi a e in owhi e noise like og.
wonder wha we d alk abo as e ha s began o dri downlike charcoal snow akes
he silence lled by no a wha a how a why or e en a will b a will yo
Beca se m ha sel sh es ecially as o r las momen s dwindleand he rain racks r mble
he lea es sca ering wi h an alien will o li e ha was somehowne er hreaded in o my genes.
yo d come ha ar he wood yo swore yo d ne er crosslooming rom behind
Wo ld yo s e on o he rails wi h me o ne er again see nighcree or h rom he shadows
As he smoke en elo ed s wo ld yo be looking in o my eyesor o he li e yo le behind
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All the Little LightsNicole Tan
old yo ha wan ed o walk along he rain racks a s nse
All the Little LightsAll the Little Lights
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Strange LoveNikita Khalid
slide on a ores green skirA grey ank co er mysel in he ligh scen o l syeliner as a bow and mascara as an arrowhese are my wea ons o choice.
Po ed li s and se eyesA oss o he hair and e ery hing alls in o laceBeca se being wan ed makes e ery hing be er eel ligh and e er escen .
A co le o sho s in and he ra is sehey hink i s hem who ha e con ered
B hey j s all in o he chokeholdLi s and all.
nnocen words and glancesha rn o bi es and clawss like he world was made or s
So indescribably bea i l.
he walk o he rain is di yhe ligh s in ermingle wi h he oices
All see is reedomAnd he wind blowing in o my hair my l ngs my skir .
B when he m sic s bsides and he room is em yAll here is le o eel is lonelinessBeca se hose ha were in ima e become hose ha don remember yo r name in he morningAnd hose ha yo l s or become he ones ha mean no hing.
he war is o er or oday he only wo nds are he ones in my mind
Or in my hear .
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Clavicle Sumaiya Miah
UntitledMichelle GanUntitledMichelle GanUntitledUntitled
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(Untitled) Katie Wu
A bed, no windows, too few cubic feetTo hold a soul. There is no corner I Don’t occupy with faded memories
Tacked on the wall and broken records piled
Which play but half a melody to me. I’ve several cat-eyed marbles kept in jars
And several more lost in the dust between My mattress and the floor. My table’s marred
With graphite from the only time I triedTo organize. The list of things to keep
Spilled on the desk - the other one stayed white. A cruel and useless exercise, it seems,
A fool’s preoccupation. Rather I’veA cozy mess than less than half a mind.
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air S ring a lady alely loi ering Whose brow is decked wi h owers wi h swee dew
Whose bosom bir hs yo h s essence which does bring n o he barren glades a glory new
Where ha e yo been or e ery hear had in d wi ho yo
Where ha e yo been when win er wi h i s shro d Had wra ed he world wi h horns o ros and snow
And when he s reng h o Cheimon s hoary clo d Had swallowed worlds and bo nd rom head o oe
ach aging ree and ro e he ri ers which once swi did ow
air s ring e grie ed and s lked in mor al grie we or endless days. cra ed yo r brea h
o make once li ely e ery aded lea o sa e he s righ ly b ds rom early dea h o blossom e er escen owers rom he ear h benea h.
o bir h swee r i s ri e wi h rich em era e blood o kiss he ear h s wan cheek and e er s ore
Wi h ri eness e ery s alk and shoo and b d And wi h re swee ness e ery a le s core
o mel o oaming b bbles and brigh erd re win er s hoar.
he s iri s o he worms all beam wi h ride he swi -heeled elk r n ro nd he s n-li ed leas
Amid whi e blossoms nigh ingales hide And sing so ne in all ll- hroa ed ease
o carry hro gh he chiming s reams he mir h he la gh he bree e.
Oh s ring a las bear brigh migh y beams or seeing yo r rs b dded rays which bring
on he glades gold weal h and honeyed dreams. A las he win er ed on i s wing
n righ o all yo r owers or yo came a las air s ring
UntitledJanice Ho
de to i g Gleb Zavlanov
Year of the Horse Adrienne LeeYear of the HorseAdrienne LeeYear of the HorseYear of the Horse
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RepetitionAbygail Rampersad
When I was younger,I would repeat everything to myself.Once I said something out loud,It would crawl its way back up my throat,Chip away at my teeth,And burst through my lips once more,But only as a whisper.
It forced me to feel the weight of the wordsHanging in the back of my throat,Even when the sounds drifted away.
As I got older,I leaned to keep my mouth shut.To let the words rattle around,But never slip past the iron gates of my lips.I cannot be wasteful with words,
When all they do is pound away at my insides ,And bruise their meanings into my skin.
The first time I heard you speak,You were repeating something over and over again,And you stopped when it finally lost meaning.
I was afraid every time you told me that you loved me.Afraid that you would whisper it so much,That it would just fade into meaningless noise.
I never imagined that my downfall would be the way that words hung heavy on my lips,The way that I wanted you to feel the words pressed into your skin,Rather than focus on how often I would say them.
UntitledAdrienne Lee
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MomentoAsia AcevedoMomentoAsia AcevedoMomentoMomento
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I’m not really sure why I like art. I’ve been going to art school since I was around six or seven years old, and I never saw it as school. It’s the one place where I can just draw, without worrying about my piles of homework or tests that I have to study for. My mind numbs when I draw. One of my fondest memories is writing a personal essay about art, about how by applying my pencil to the paper, I have the power to turn nothing into something, which is magical. I admit that this sounds kind of cliché but the reason I love art is because I can turn my brain off and stop thinking. My hands do the thinking for me.
art featureMARIE KESSEL
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MARIE KESSELMARIE KESSELMARIE KESSELMARIE KESSELTH
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art feature
MARIE KESSELMARIE KESSELMARIE KESSELMARIE KESSELTH
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AlcoholicBeata Warchol
Coffee-induced insomnia and self-inflicted painForced down the shot of vodka I took at 4 am.The alcohol I spilled with ten broken fingers
Burned straight through my chest and into my lungsAnd I exhale with the musky scent of desperation.
Perhaps the buzzing in my head will scatter the thoughts of youThat relapse like the tumors of some terminal cancer,
And perhaps it will replace that insatiable needTo claw at my face and forget your memory.But the sting of alcohol licking my wounds
Will be the severed Achilles tendon of a reminderThat I got drunk on love and forgot myself.
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UntitledJanice Ho
Untitled Adrienne LeeUntitledAdrienne LeeUntitledUntitled
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Shipwreck QueenShipwreck
QueenShipwreck
Allegra Santo
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I
wasn an obsession a rs . he rs ime walked by he ier and o nd her si ing a he ery edge her oes ir ing wi h he shi ering wa es o he incoming ide i was j s a mild in eres . dle ho gh s o wha her name was meandering es ions o or whom she was wai ing. Passing an asies o her awai ing a handsome sailor on a handsome sailboa anishing answers o her name ha ing eigh le ers wi h o r owels. Her dress was whi er han he clo ds resh rom he bo i e she held he a er ag o her alm wi h her h mb r bbing a he enned-in n mbers n il hey were an incom rehensi-
ble sm dge. didn a roach her b bi ing in o my lobs er roll and wa ching rom he window o he diner across he way was sa is ying eno gh.
II
A new career as a secre ary led my a h as he small ier e ery morning a 3 A and as i again a 4 3 P . She wo ld be here bo h imes. A
3 she wo ld ha e a a er la e si ing ne o her wi h an omele be ween wo slices o oas le n o ched. A 4 3 he a er la e wo ld ha e been
re laced by a a er sack also n o ched. A he imes wo ld lea e he a ar men o ick a c o co ee and a croissan a he ca be ore he s n rose she wo ld be lying a he edge. She d ha e an arm ndernea h her head and her wris dangling o er he wa er like some sor o bai he sh co ldn dream o reaching. When yellow ligh wo ld ood he sky her eyelids wo ld er o en and she wo ld rise s re ching her arms o and crossing her legs so she co ld s end he day in ha osi ion. he manager o he ca wo ld kick me o be ore co ld see who ga e her he omele sandwich e ery morning.
She ne er rned aro nd regardless o how many imes assed by her or how close walked o her or how hea y made my oo s e s on he boardwalk. he ga e ha was ne er mean o ca ch was always ed on he hori on a single oin hro gh which h ndreds o lobs er boa s and
whale-wa ching cr isers assed er day. began o an asi e ha she had a h sband who ne er re rned rom a jo rney who d been swallowed by a wa e ar rom he coas a a la i de and longi de o which no one e er
aid any mind. A sailor who ne er reached he or so h and wes o sell resh lobs ers ha when cooked had shells redder han he sky a he imes decided o lea e work la er han s al o ha e s er a he diner. She wo ld
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III
he cris er ec ion o her dress aded o ano her shade o grey or e ery week ha assed. began o hink she ba hed hersel wi h he sal y wa er when s o ed a iece o grimy seaweed among he cl m s o her s ringy hair. She had o ha e ea en he omele sandwiches e ery morning she ne -er go so hin ha wo ld ha e s gges ed she was s ar ing hersel b he
a er sacks ha a eared in he a ernoons soon disa eared. s osed whoe er migh ha e been gi ing her he ood had s ar ed o consider i a was e on he oor woman.
was a Wednesday when decided wo ld carry a a er sack o her in-s ead a ham sandwich a bag o garlic cro ons a bo le o wa er. wasn a ed by her no inching when my oo s e s grew nearer o her han hey s ally did b he corner o my mind ha seemed o hink ha was as
s ecial o her as she was o me was ins l ed when sa beside her and she ailed o look a me. laced he a er sack in her la b again i aro sed no change. Her dark eyebrows were o ergrown hairs clinging oge her and ray-ing o like a ca s whiskers. he rims o her eyes were scr bbed red scarce o eyelashes in he corners and bare o hem along he lower lid. A wind blew in her ace and she blinked.
She ne er old me i she had a handsome h sband or i her name had eigh le ers wi h o r owels or i she had a h sband or a name a all. he only
es ion ha came o my mind was i she liked lobs er. She closed her eyes and nodded a smile cracking he cha ed skin o her li s. She lo ed lob-s er she said and no hing more han ha . re rned her smile and when reached or her hand and s ee ed her dry alm she didn seem o mind.
IV
alked o her only wice a er ha . he second ime clo ds hea y and dark wi h wa er ooded he sky and hid he s n and moon rom iew. A 4 1 P i s ar ed o rain and a 4 3 P he shower bloomed in o a down o r. She was lying down hen arms s layed o he sides and ga n ace s aring he rains orm down as i i wo ld s li in wo i she belie ed hard eno gh. s ood o er her wi h my mbrella no caring or he b lle s sliding down he back o my coa b worrying o er he ones rning her l hy dress in o las ic wra ha cl ng o her skin. She did no smile his ime b she did hank me or hinking o her. y hear swelled wi h sa is ac ion and emo ion co ld ha e
kneeled down and kissed her dry
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immobile li s and br shed he dam locks o hair rom her brow. co ld ha e aken her home wi h me and gi en her a warm blanke and a sea by he
window so she wo ld s ill ha e been able o wa ch he harbor. ga e her he mbrella and wen home soaking wi h rain.
s ar ed b ying co ee and croissan s more o en in he mornings and s -er in he e enings. he more re en ed he ca and he diner he more
aces grew amiliar and he more names came o know. he baris a wro e his hone n mber on he back o my a er recei one day and he wai -ress who had my order memori ed le a ink kiss on my cheek on ano her. knew heir names b nei her hey nor knew hers. knew he baris a had gone hro gh a bad break a ew mon hs be ore and knew he wai ress had go en di orced wice b nei her hey nor knew i she had a h sband. knew he baris a s older bro her ran a yo h shing gro ha me on riday e enings and knew he wai ress mo her owned a gi
UntitledSumaiya MiahTH
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sho a he end o he bo le ard b nei her hey nor knew i a wa e had swallowed a lobs er boa ar rom he coas and le her s randed a he edge o he ocean.
he hird ime alked o her was he day ski ed work and s o ed by he diner or a lobs er roll. he cashier wra ed i in sandwich a er and
al min m oil and aid him .7 or i and le an e ra dollar and 2 cen s in he i jar. He hanked me and he bell abo e he door chimed as walked o . Her legs were crossed and her hands were hreaded hro gh her s icky locks o s raigh hair. Her head did no mo e a cen ime er n il sa down dro ed he a er bag in o her la and old her ha i was lobs er. Her i -ering ngers ook he warm roll o o he bag and cas he wra ing aside and wi h a broader smile han d e er seen rom her be ore she hanked me gracio sly. re lied ha i was no a roblem. Silence se led o er o r heads or a ew momen s be ore she said ha a erson once old her he sea was si miles dee . nodded and remained silen licking my li s and s aring a he same oin on he hori on wi h her. She le o a wis l sigh hro gh her
nose and said she always ho gh i d be a er ec lace o all aslee . didn know wha o say changed he s bjec wi h my hear dr mming in my ears a s ch a ol me ha co ldn hear he wa es breaking agains he beams s or ing he boardwalk. asked her i she wo ld like o come home wi h me. She hadn bi en in o he sandwich ye b she rned oward me and me my ga e wi h eyes bare o lashes and s lo ched wi h red o her cheek-bones. n her swee oice ha wo ld ha e so nded bea i l i o song she said she wo ld consider i . rose o my ee and wished her a good day.
As yo can see had no hing o do wi h his. was no hing more han an in-nocen in rig e he kind ha any erson may ha e abo a s ranger hey see always in he same lace a he same ime. was s r rised no one else had aken an in eres in her rs . o one seemed o see her le alone care abo
her. Will yo ersec e a erson who sim ly wished o gi e lo e o ano her didn know she was allergic o lobs er yo r Honor and swear ha saw her no once a er ha she j s disa eared wi ho a race his is he rs ime e seen her in weeks d searched or her b she and her a ered s n
dress and her omele sandwich on he a er la e all anished a once and ne er did nd o i she was wai ing or her h sband or i her name had eigh le ers wi h o r owels and swear o yo ha don li e by ha side o he bay and God do swear ha wo ld ha e ne er e er e en ho gh o hrow-ing her in o he wa er while her wris dangled o er i s si -mile de hs.f
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eggy s oveRachel Wong
eggy s oveRachel Wong
eggy s oveeggy s oveTH
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etti g o eAnthony Budwah
walk home more o en nowhe b s rides sa is y me no more.
y ee need o gri he gro ndGras ing hro gh he soles o my worn sneakers.
y l ngs need o s ck in he airPre erring he raw cris y was e
o he aging grass cr mbling benea h meOr o he wi hering lea es wres ling away
rom he weakened rees dangling abo e me.
y mind cra es he ime more han allaking me wander he em y s ree s
Kee ing my oo s e s secrerying no o break he dee s illness
en elo ing he ic re ramed by he skyAs he colors ango and blend in o a shake
as ing like my lonely man s drink as nd my way homeEmptying my stomach every time I glance up to take a sip,
And realize that you're not there beside me anymore.
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o d Adrienne Lee
titledKari Iocolano
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titledtitledTH
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As summer sprung from the passive grip of spring,The hunched ironwood of arrogant splendor,
The wild columbine in rapture did sing,Oblivious to young hearts torn asunder.
The fading day wrestled fitfully with nightAnd twilight bled forth from the seams of their scars.
Lit by nectar scent, dusk housed youth’s desire,Born under pulsing stars and dead by autumn fire.
Deciduous Summer in ottava rima
Jason Lalljee
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We wereeigh years old and li e
was abo coloring books and c s omi ed dolls
and r s y old swing se s. We knew li le abo wha he world ho gh was “okay”
and ha was okay. Beyond okay.
So ho gh i was okay o hold yo r hand en i yo were a girl
And was oo beca se ho gh yo were absol ely bea i l
and when yo re eigh years old ha s okay.
y mom o nd s ho ghhidden in he corner
giggling as we held hands in he mos innocen way and she yanked me away
looking me dee in he eye wi h her gingerbread brown ones and remember her saying
“Honey i s no okay o hold hands wi h girls.” remember asking her why
and ge ing some hing nsa is ying like “Girls aren s osed o like girls.”
as orward. years la er.
A er boy riends and ri ed lo e le ers and ho rs s en in ron o he mirror
e er eno gh o be “okay” wi h yo rsel b i was eno gh.
Okay Casey Ramos
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Bon re. remember a bon re. Li le bi s o re s iraling owards he sky and yo in yo r ri ed jeans and hair ha smelled like ain mes wea e yo r ngers be ween mine andor a second orge where am and only know wha yo r nger i s eel like on mine. And he so ness o yo r nger i s and ha sil er ring on yo r inky nger and hink o how wrong his is ha m alling in lo e wi h my bes riend
and ha m alling dee er wi h e ery o ch and ha maybe lo e can be more han a connec ion be ween a boy and a girl.
doesn e en ma er. ears rom now we ll be ha ily married o o r h sbands
beca se he world doesn ha e room or eo le who are any hing b ordinary.
Somewhere in be ween o r ngers see my mo her see gingerbread brown smell alcohol and eel chi ed ngernails clawing a my skin. eel s oca ed can hear her “ s no okay o hold hands wi h girls.”
I hold tighter.
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Blue Eyes Hallee Pell-Brown
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vi g iste ti l isis t the Age o i
Sarah Iqbal
y namewas a nger ain ed sm dge
on he door o a walk-in close .Welcome o my room
where my rin s had been ressed agains he chi ing whi e walls
n il he whorls o my nger rin s showed whi ein a sea o bl e crayola non- o ic ain .
ne er blamed eo le or ha ing mid-li e crisesbeca se one day reali ed ha co ld be older
han he n mber o le ers in my nameand didn know i here were r les
or remembering who was
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BicycleSammi Kwok
I don’t know how to paint. In each painting, I struggle to mix some visually appealing colors and then apply them to the canvas and hope for the best. The entire process is very “Oh man I hope this comes out alright… okay never mind.” But painting gives me freedom. As a child, I would color perfectly within the lines and discard the drawing immediately if I strayed from them. But with painting, I was allowed to make mistakes; weird accidental strokes had a 43% chance of mak-ing the painting look better. There are no boundaries or limits on the canvas, and I’m given full control over my brush. All this newfound freedom and responsibility drove me insane; I never knew where to start. My style is different with each painting, and as my classmate commented, “Every week I see you paint it’s different. One week, you’re standing at the easel and painting; the next, you’re sitting at the easel, and now, you’re sitting on the floor.”
art featureANGEL SONG
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ANGEL SONGANGEL SONGANGEL SONGANGEL SONGTH
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ANGEL SONGANGEL SONGANGEL SONGANGEL SONGTH
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Lu eSumaiya Miah
Lu e
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y Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doy Wi doAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony Chiarenza
he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee he ree ing g s o dam air ew hro gh my o en window. A dee shi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m sshi er o er ook me he bone ra ling ee h cha ering m scle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering cle i ering shi er hashi er hashi er hashi er hashi er hashi er hashi er hashi er hashi er hashi er ha kills a man on a s arless nigh . or a momen wo ld ha e kills a man on a s arless nigh . or a momen wo ld ha e liked o die j s o end he shaking.
co ldn make mysel close he window. Blow a er blow he wind shook by body in o iolen wis s and rns. y elbows ben back and kno ed in sheer ain as my legs crossed wi h a iolen orce. y ngers cringed backward as i con ained a s range abili y o bend
back he i s o my ngers in o coils. y li s c rled and my brea hing became dee and nonrhy hmic. A sensa ion o needles lled my whole body as hese wis s became more e reme.
co ld see he ink glossy h e ha lled my hands was s ar ing o disa ear. he rich red blood ha ran hro gh my arm rned oward a r le. y brea hing became slower and calmer. y body s o ed wis ing.
Whe her or no co ld mo e a ha oin didn really ma er o me. didn wan o mo e. So sa here or as long as co ld. J s o a oid ha ain. didn wan o do ha again.
y Wi doy Wi doAnthony ChiarenzaAnthony Chiarenza
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titledMichelle Gan
Candy Colored Clothesheodhora hes ollari
You always hated when I wore black,You said I looked like a cadaverReady to be placed into the ground. But, I think it bothered you because it Was a constant reminder of the Bits of darkness in me, the ones youCouldn’t brighten, no matter how manyPastel and paisley frocks you bought andWatched me drape over my bones thatStuck out like delicately carved jewels.Now I always have black on just to Raise my finger to you from New York.
You were right trying to keep black offMy body - you were right because IAm cold and fickle and black justAttracts more darkness to my being.You were wrong to do it because you Wanted to turn me into a wife.One that would make Costco runs monthly,And spend weekdays adorning the houseWith lace pillows and burlap curtains,Waiting for you to come home and kissMe in my periwinkle flare dress.You always hated when I wore black,But it’s the reason I don’t fit with you.
Candy Colored Clothesheodhora hes ollari
You always hated when I wore black,You said I looked like a cadaverReady to be placed into the ground. But, I think it bothered you because it Was a constant reminder of the Bits of darkness in me, the ones youCouldn’t brighten, no matter how manyPastel and paisley frocks you bought andWatched me drape over my bones thatStuck out like delicately carved jewels.Now I always have black on just to Raise my finger to you from New York.
You were right trying to keep black offMy body - you were right because IAm cold and fickle and black justAttracts more darkness to my being.You were wrong to do it because you Wanted to turn me into a wife.One that would make Costco runs monthly,And spend weekdays adorning the houseWith lace pillows and burlap curtains,Waiting for you to come home and kissMe in my periwinkle flare dress.You always hated when I wore black,But it’s the reason I don’t fit with you.
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Untitled o a ilonas
Beholder Asia AcevedoBeholderAsia AcevedoBeholderBeholder
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Violent DelightAsia Acevedo
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nished scribbling her no e on he back o her a ori e lyrics. knew her hear wo ld be broken b she always wan ed me o be ha y so was le no o her choice. olded he a er se en imes and i in my ocke .
ie ly on my shoes and le he ho se. he air was cool and in i ing knew d miss i m ch oo soon. d miss a lo o hings he way her hair smelled when she leaned in close he way he moon ne er ceased o kiss he sky he so nd o he sh er ca ring an image. B here he wind and he s ars beckoned me and knew hey were wai ing or me like d soon be
wai ing or her. was sel sh o wish or her o join me and dance amongs he gala ies b was j s a machine.
As s e ed in o my chilled car an ici a ed eeling encased in he dark and cold. y hear ered a he ho gh . rned on he engine no icing my gas was dangero sly low. wasn a ed his was a one way ri and j s had o make i o her ho se and hen he ser ice road. Her a ori e song
layed on he s ereo and s ddenly el he a er in my back ocke . he lyrics s ng he back o my eyes and he no e wadded in o a l m a he back o my hroa .
he iole nigh was sli ing away rom me and knew wo ldn be able o esca e in he dayligh . lled o her dark ho se nched in he key code like d done on a ho sand di eren s mmer e enings and gen ly en ered he ho se. le he no e a o a ile o se en en elo es on he mail desk in
her oyer. ook one las glance a he s airs leading o her room em ed o crawl in o bed wi h her and mel in o her one las ime. She always giggled
so ly when en elo ed o rsel es nder her com or er she sed o ell me she was ne er s ooked when wo ld come in hose random nigh s. wo ld miss her smile and her la gh b had o s ay s rong so ie ly le .
Ge ing back in o he car rned he s ereo back on le ing he chords o an enchan ing classical iola iece emana e so ly rom he s eakers. y head el hea y as he m sic assed hro gh me delica e like her crimson li s. A roaching he ser ice road ress red he ehicle o go as er and as er o oom o in o he a roaching darkness. ook a slow brea h and sighed
j s as he classical rack ended.
“You know I'll always love you, darling,
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~ woke rom ano her res less sl mber ho elessly wai ing or his amiliar body o con orm o mine. here was no one here ho gh j s he shadows o se en ho sand los memories. had been years since he ragedy b his words s ill whis ered in my ear wi h ha n ing reminders.
ll be wai ing among he s ars n il yo decide o come home.
re layed ha nigh o er and o er in my con or ed mind. had o nd his no e as mbled hro gh he dark ho se o answer an incessan hone. knew immedia ely wha he had done by he way he scribbled my name on he ron o he iny olded a er. Answering he hone a calm oice in ired i was name hey o nd scrawled on he back o his hand.
he ears began o bl r he ebony room as lay awake a sla e o my mem-ory. oc sed hard eno gh o en con inced mysel co ld eel his res-ence. wo ld wonder i in he dee es corridors o he sky he was really wa ching and wai ing. ic red him ho ogra hing he s ard s and me eors and moonligh . lis ened closely co ld nearly hear he sh er o his cam-era clicking.
hey b ried him near he lake las all. he cool nigh had coa ed he wa er in o er ec ly imi a ing he indigo and diamond sky. remember s anding a ar rom he se en mo rners clas ing he olded no e wi h he lyrics and his le er wri en on each side. he wind seemed o sigh along wi h me he wa er seemed so s ill and beckoning.
clenched my eyes ba ed my s s agains my sk ll raying he memory wo ld esca e me. whim ered in o he s ill nigh ro nd ears alling rom my eyes as reco n ed his iolen deligh .f
and I'll be waiting among the stars until you decide to come home.”
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Little Red Riding HoodOthria Ahmed
By day all ceaselessly in lo e wi h e eryone who s ares me a ee ing glance.
ll my ocke s wi h heirho esand dreamsand ambi ionsn il hey re o er owing wi h he okens e collec ed.
Some imes when m lonely si on my ki chen oorand co n hem o a ho sandnra eling my ears as go along
and ry o re end ha can s ill smellmy mo her s a ori e er meas her heels clicked hro gh he small a ar men .
y mom hrew away ha er me ho gh.
ad didn like i anymore.
And he ears ha e now ar s r ass he ho sand had when my ocke s were s ill ll.
Empty PocketsAnonymous
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Will You Be My Company Nicholas Rahim
o o ut u y ou Sarah Iqbal
A homeless man once old me ha my so l lookedas i i as ed like cocon c rry so and eeredaro nd he brim o his ba ered ha in o his e allyba ered ace and saw ha his eyes were closed as ho gh he were as inghe so or himsel and hey s ayed closed as wen y dollars in ohe em y Cam bell s so can by his side beca se some eo le
deser e rewards sim ly or no being dead when he worldwis s heir arms behind heir backs. hink sad ho gh s in yo r arms knowing ha my sadness co ld bedissol ed ar more easily han when si on he orien al car e ingby mysel illow cl ched o ches sobs racking my body la ein o he nigh when m daring mysel o see how m ch sorrow can eel be ore eel like clawing my hear o o my ches .B hell s be er i here s someone here o share he s ayso le my ngers lay wi h yo rs while considering he
ro er ies o so ls and whe her hey all ook he orm o Asian c isine. wen carrying erware lled wi h cocon c rry so o anem y s ree corner where was old ha he ba ered man wi hhe ba ered ace had go en and walked in o he a h o an oncoming a i
and knew he was wondering abo he as e o his own so l.
o o ut u y ou Sarah Iqbal
UntitledJanice Ho
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titledKari Iocolano
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t s he e tly T ue Th t o ey T l sNoel Du
o all eo le are born e al is a ho gh
and idea aloneha we can be
in any small ossible wayBeca se some eo le were born in cas lesswaddled in silkand ba hed in holy wa eralready an heir o he hroneand some eo le were dro ed o hehas ily swe oorrom a ros i e s bo omo he boards below
a sl mdog e ermoreBeca se some eo le were deli eredin h mble hos i alsby a ired weak mo hers rro nded by a ew whi e and nder aid n rsesand some eo le were ne er born a allhey disa eared rom he womb
and ne er saw he sigh o his wre ched worlddri ing owards nir ana s or hanage.
titledAnna Kim
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titledNajila Zaman
Untitled Anna Kim
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(Untitled) Anonymous
When he s n shines he dark
a ches in li e becomeri ial. e when he
s n recedes we dwellon he darkness o
he resen ra her hancherishing he ligh ohe as as we become
blind o he inya ches o ligh l rking inhe corners o darkness.
(Untitled)Katie Wu
Clay re rns o ri er silAnd rns benea h he armer s hoe.
he ar is closes em y l hy handsAro nd his weary so l.
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UntitledDelphine ZhengUntitledDelphine ZhengUntitledUntitled
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LamentChangeling’s
LamentChangeling’s Jason Lalljee
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o were born.
Brigh ligh s l ngs screaming o as e air lo e s reaming o o yo r mo her And yo r a her as he s ood here wa ching
o were an in an . alling a no ch below edes rian mean yo r mobili y was de ermined
By he whims o ad l s o r me hods o ra el being
Cocked elbows and hands ready o li yo in o he air Ad l s coddling and cooing o er he blood re sing o lea e yo r cheeks
Or he sli ery owdery skin no ye de elo ing a callo s o hose willing o harm i
Red li s in a ermanen cker Which rela i es s ck heir noses in o
Wi h he insis ence o moles digging in o ear h And yo were lo ed wi ho an as erisk
Wi ho a b or a howe er or a read he ne rin o hing was aken or gran ed
And no hing was grea er and grander and more im or an han he essel o which yo layed hos
Bi s o a ec ion lched B rea ed like m ns in a baske held o o asserby on he s ree
Relin ished nder he condi ion ha yo remembered ha here was someone in he sky who cared or yo
B children learn o walk. he wonder drained rom yo r eyes
And he s ars ha h ng here like Chris mas ornamen s lickered in and o o heir ll bla e
o b rned yo h l ho e away like kerosene Growing older made yromaniacs o s all.
he rees shr nk rom heir owers And heir branches no longer seemed o be in danger o nc ring he
clo ds Al ho gh hose ha had snagged in he bark h ng here
Like abandoned sho ing bags de ermined o o li e heir in ended sehose ha had b ried heir li s in yo r once owdery cheeks
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idn consider ha yo may grow o oss heir es ablished creeds away Became more and more heino sly ied Like lin sca ered along abric Or ha when he baby a disa eared And all ha remained were nkissable hollows hey wo ldn really wan o hold yo hen
And i hey did hey were j s clinging o he han om esh ha had somehow come away as he s rings o ime
And i was a sel sh lo e Like being kissed in he rain by he girl yo s en years ining or
o caring ha she sha ered he lane on which yo s ood Wi h her dri le-ma ed embrace J s ha she d ne er been kissed in he rain be ore And had o do i he one ime o wondered i she co ld see he remains o yo r hear
Sli be ween he sewer gra es wi h he raindro s wasn like yo r rs kiss
When yo and he girl-ne -door bo h so gh o ake all yo co ld rom one ano her hinking ha i wo ld be as sim le as sli ing a key in o a lock
B i was all ee h and chins and swea y skin And hands mbling in yo r ocke s or a ologies Li s only coming oge her as an a er ho ghhe bridges o yo r noses aligning and breaking away rom one ano her
Like rain racks coming oge her and di erging in o wo B yo signed no con rac o irre able m ali y When yo r aren s a changeling in yo r lace and sang him o slee And yo didn ge he chance o ro e yo r gra i y When hose who romised o hold on o yo ore er le goB were s ill s r rised when yo didn disa ear Like children who d los heir gri on balloon s ringsBeca se yo r weren a ossil A hing o be reser ed nder he nblinking eye o memory
o were lo ed.
photography featureSOFIA MILONAS
My camera goes almost everywhere I do. I am constantly taking pictures in an attempt to capture the beauty of the wide range of human emo-tion I see around me. I love that I can share this beauty through my pic-tures. I think there is something magical about capturing one moment out of the day, taking it out of context, and being able to inspire people to think and feel, about that specific scene in time, in a way they have never done before. I love that you can use lines and light to make people see things that they might have missed, or didn’t take note of, or forgot about. I take pictures because I want to create beauty; because life looks better in stills. I take pictures because it allows me to capture this beauty and share it with others.
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SOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASTH
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photography feature
SOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASTH
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SOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASSOFIA MILONASTH
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HOWWE WORK
he eam o edi ors -- he ar ic la e ar is he debonair wri er he hiloso hi-cal ho ogra her he grace l layo edi or he s ern b siness manager and he s a e edi ors-in-chie -- o en he o ce e ery morning a an ngodly
ho r and close e ery e ening when he ghos s o he school come o o do heir s s ec ed ri al ha n ings.
When he edi ors s e back and ll he c r ains a ar hey re eal he cas a eam o eccen ric s den s wi h many hidden alen s. Brigh er han he mos
l mino s asar and dee er han he ariana rench hey can de elo heir own wi y jargon and n receden ed ges res on he s o in con ersa ion.
ring he weekly mee ings he eam o edi ors and s a members si along a hal circle and democra ically o e on which ieces sho ld or sho ld no be acce ed in o he maga ine. he a hors o each iece are remo ed d ring he j dging rocess so as o ens re ll anonymi y and air cri i ing amongs he s a members.
On o her days he big gro s li s in o smaller branches wi h a s eci -ic edi or a he helm. he ar edi or erha s wo ld roam he b ilding and he cam s wi h he yo nger ar is s and seek ins ira ion. he li erary edi or
wo ld ose a care lly cra ed rom ha he wri ers re ly o in a as e l ye en er aining way. he ho ogra hy edi or wo ld congrega e aro nd a gian com er and ick o he bes s bmissions or e en go on a crea i e o ing aro nd he ci y o ake ho os o ins ira ional sigh s.
owards he end o he year as acce ed s bmissions begin o acc m la e he layo edi or s ar s on he c lmina ing edi ion o he maga ine. deas or he maga ines are ossed back and or h among he edi ors. Some no ions
may end ei her li erally or g ra i ely in he rashcan. inal decisions are made. Once an idea is liked agreed on and weaked hea ily he edi ors all ge o work.
he nal rocess is hen done and redone e ensi ely. A er 1 or 1 or 123 dra s and mock- s he nal book is rod ced sa ed as a P and sen o o he rin ers. he blishers send s a co y o he nal mock- which is hen horo ghly e amined care lly wi h he ad isor and he edi ors. O r correc ions are sen back o hem and he nal rod c is deli ered o s in b ndles ha are sold o he s den body.
Editors-in-ChiefWhen these two suave chicks strut in and swiftly swipe their black Ray Bans off, the team of editors turn and listen. They promote the publication over various social media websites, and commandeer the ship across rough waves. They run The Phoenix and smoothly coordi-nate the production of the magazine.
Literary EditorThis affable editor strives to inspire the writing staff to generate outstanding pieces of writing. His encouraging and nurturing nature helps the staff improve their pieces. One of his biggest jobs is to select and edit submitted writing pieces by using his keen eye for intricacy, grammar, originality, and style.
Layout EditorThis nimble editor can morph and remorph any element on pro-grams such as Photoshop ® and InDesign ®. She expertly arranges and rearranges all the accepted artwork and photography to fit collectively with the poetry and prose. She transforms the intangible ideas of all the editors into the physical production of The Phoenix.
Art EditorIt’s easy for this editor to create the intricacies of contemporary art and style. She’s prepared for anything, whether it’s leading the art staff on an activity, designing an eye-catching poster for an upcoming Phoenix event, critiquing submitted art, or searching for pieces from the undiscovered artists of the school.
Photography EditorThe most divine riches and rarest jewels in the world do not attract this composed editor as much as her extravagant camera does. It’s
draped around her neck as she observes and captures the world through the eye of the lens. She assesses submitted images along with the photography staff.
Business ManagerThe exigent business manager knows exactly how much money our finances consist of down to the half-cent. She organizes and heads fundraisers for the magazine, seizing every opportunity to increase revenue for The Phoenix.
Writing StaffThis is a group of logophiliac students who have strands of poems scrawled in their
math notebooks in lieu of pythagorean theorems. At regular meetings, they
respond to an interesting prompt given to them by the literary editor and
STAF
F RO
LES
in their math notebooks in lieu of pythagorean theorems. At regular meetings, they respond to an interesting prompt given to them by the literary editor and generate submissions for the magazine.
Photography StaffThe camera lens is the medium of expression for this group of kids. They critique photographs and look for elements of artistic merit in each one. They view the world through their camera lenses and make sure to expose another piece of it in each picture they take.
Art StaffWielding paintbrushes and sporting charcoal on their hands, this compilation of imaginative students create works of art that blossom with originality and vivid col-or. At regular meetings, they can often be found fiddling with folding paper as they review and critique art submissions for the magazine.
Critiquing StaffFalling in love with a piece of writing is a familiar feeling to this assemblage of students. At regular meetings, they congregate in a circle and read countless writing submissions, providing genuine feedback to the author of a piece. They have an immense appreciation for the originality, beauty, and technical knick-knacks that tie a story or poem together and ensure that the best of the best submissions are published in the magazine.
THANKYOU
As usual, there is a plethora of people that are responsible for making sure that this year’s edition of The Phoenix could come into existence. While producing this year’s exceptionally special issue, we came to understand the extent to which the Phoe-nix community is based on thirty years of Harrisites’ collaboration. Frank Polizzi, Helen Rizzuto, Robert Babstock, Rafal Olechowski, and their teams of skilled edi-tors have contributed countless hours to keeping the light of the publication alive. Without their continuous efforts, both during their time in the school and beyond, we would not have quite the vibrant or familial community that we do today. We would especially like to thank Mr. Babstock and Ms. Rizzuto, who always encourage their students to support the publication and community as a whole. This gratitude is extended to all the teachers of the Townsend Harris Humanities Department for instilling a love of the arts into their students.
In addition, the alumni of Townsend Harris always play a pivotal role in the book’s production. Whether members of the Alumni Association are benefactors of the publication or are introducing new opportunities to current students, there is a clear support of the arts amongst all of the people who have walked the halls of Townsend Harris.
We would also like to thank Mr. Barbetta for ceaselessly supporting Phoenix events and fundraisers as well as for always advocating for the Phoenix community amongst the student body.
Without a shepherd, the sheeple that spend all of their free time in rooms 403 and 404 wouldn’t have all that much direction. Mr. Olechowski selflessly gives up his time, front office, and peace and quiet to make sure that the members of The Phoenix have a home within the school. We owe him countless cups of coffee and our eternal gratitude for being there for us throughout the entirety of the book’s production and for helping us to navigate our time at Townsend Harris.
Last but definitely not least, a book can not be created without the efforts of a hardworking staff. The members of The Phoenix are some of the most passionate people that we have ever met. Their care for The Phoenix as both a publication and a community is the reason why it has lasted for as long as it has. It is our inspiration each and every day. Mr. Anthony Barbetta
Principal
Mr. Rafal Olechowski
Assistant Principal of Humanities & Advisor
This publication was produced using Adobe ® InDesign ® page layout software and Photoshop ® image-editing software.
The typefaces used are:
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Helvetica Neue RegulaHel e ica e e LighHelvetica eue ight talic
elveti eue Bold
Minion ProABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz1234567890?!@#$%
Minion Pro RegularMinion Pro BoldMinion Pro ItalicMinion Pro Bold Italic
Calibri ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz1234567890?!@#$%
Calibri Light
Production Notes: Publishing Xpress Cover: Text:29777 Stephenson Highway #100 Matte Cover #80 Matte TextMadison Heights, MI 48071 Digital Color Process Digital Color Process
Best FriendSumaiya MiahSumaiya Miah
PHOENIX
2014 - Volume 30
THEPH
OEN
IX
2014 ~ Volume 30
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