Painting: Space Envision, by Afia Faiza Shopno

 

Space is unseen to many in real life. Outer space is not completely empty. It can be very fantastical, if we assume: "Envision, create and believe in your own space, and the envision will form around you." This painting is an imaginative depiction. "Imagination is more important than knowledge, knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world."

Poetry: Impurity, by Jaya Sudhakar

i  don't  pray  anymore

what  with  the

 pink  sugar  that  stains  my  teeth

the  nettles  that  grow

out  of  my  scalp

and  the  acetone  in  my  lungs.

i  don’t  dare  

wear  the  dress  of  a  bride

while  malice  and  contempt

perfume  my  neck

and  my  skin  is  a  vessel

 for  rotten  residue.

i  don’t  pray  anymore,

 for  i  don't  want  any  god  of  mine

to  sip 

 from  a  stained  cup.

Painting: Closed Window, by Afia Faiza Shopno

 

Closed windows, unopened stories, life is still bright through the translucent shades because forgiveness is like this: a room can be dank cause you have closed the windows, you've closed the curtains. But the sun is still shining outside, and the air is fresh outside. In order to get that fresh air, you have to get up and open the windows and draw the curtains apart. This painting describes all of the above.

Photography: 156 Moons After, by Sena Chang

 

Digital Art: Perfection (and others), by Celestia Jones (TW: GORE AND SEXUAL TRAUMA)

 

Photography: Summer of '15, by Sena Chang

 

Poetry: What Are You Really Afraid Of, by S.K. (TW: SEXUAL ASSAULT)

 

You sit on the edge of your bed

Staring into the mirror 

You get a chill then 

You feel his hands again 

The mirror says there's nothing there 

But since when are mirrors trustworthy

Then again everyone around you says 

“Trust the mirror, nothing's there” 

Followed by words of encouragement

That have unspoken undertones,

“You’re so strong” 

You victim 

“You’re making so much progress” 

You victim 

As time progresses it changes to 

“Maybe try doing this again” 

Alright it's been long enough 

“what are you afraid of” 

GET OVER IT 

That makes you ask yourself 

What are you really afraid of? 

No one's there 

But the feeling is all consuming 

So who's the problem? 

If nothing's there 

And no one is around 

And only you’re there 

What are you afraid of?

The only conclusion

It's me.

I am the problem 

I did this 

I am to blame for someone else’s actions

Credit is given where credit is due. 

       I’m sorry 

Photography: Steel Night, by Alice Jang

 

Fiction: Save Her, by Lucas Huang

When I was younger, my mother would always tell me to chew on my food slowly, so I can swallow it with ease. She would cut expensive steaks she ordered into bite size pieces and put them on my plate. I enjoyed eating, I enjoyed the food.

            I would laugh when the food I ordered amazed me. Sometimes I would even stop for a few seconds after I finish chewing, then close my eyes, lost in its wonder.

            Enchanted by its magic.  

           Content.

            True joy.

            I savored my food.

            Savor.

            By savoring my food, even plain old fried rice could send me to cloud nine. When I shut my eyes, I could hear sounds, voices. As if I traveled to a different environment.

Let’s use fried rice as an example again: When I put a spoonful of the food in my mouth, chewed thoroughly, then closed my eyes, I could hear the sound of wind rushing past my ears. I could hear the sound of plantations brushing against each other. Beyond that I could hear…

Nothing.

No chattering of customers.

No sounds of cars passing by.

No sounds of televisions playing commercials.

Nothing.

After I swallowed and I opened my eyes again, I was back in my seat, in the diner.

I loved savoring my food.

But I lost it all.

I lost it all.

Lost it all.

As time went by, I stopped savoring my food. Eating became a necessity, a hurdle placed before everyday tasks. Three meals a day turned into two, sometimes one.

Sometimes none at all.

Life became too busy for me to slow down and just… enjoy my food.

I started chewing fast, forcing every bite down my throat, thinking about what classes I have after lunch time, thinking about what homework is left and when to study my upcoming exams.

Business overwhelmed me, to a point I forgot I loved eating as a child.

Forgot that I enjoyed being lost in the wonders of simply savoring a dish, savoring a single bite in my mouth.

Once, I was sent far away from home during summer. I was sent to an engineering camp, since that was what my parents wanted me to study after high school.

I hated it, calculating things all day, classes after classes. Might as well not have summer at all.

I wasn’t particularly good at math, for that reason I was looked down upon.

I was a nobody.

Made no friends.

Made no progress.

I felt like a broken gear in a well oiled machine.

Detached.

And won’t be missed if it disappeared suddenly.

Lunch came. I entered the cafeteria, an ordinary diner with concrete floor and metal tables. I would have mistaken it as a prison diner at first glance.

Only one type of food was served that day.

Fish and chips.

I sat there alone, with a couple of deep fried fish in front of me on a tan colored tray.

There were other things on the tray. But the event that was about to happen made me forget what they were.

I sighed as I stared at my food. Golden nuggets. After I sliced one open with my fork I could see the white flesh of the fish.

Didn’t know prison food could make me salivate.

I placed a piece in my mouth.

Warm.

Warmth.

I shivered.

Chills down my spine.

I dropped my fork on the table with a clank.

I paused before chewing. My lips quivered slightly.

As I bit into the crisp bread batter.

Then into the tender fish.

I closed my eyes gently.

I chewed.

And chewed.

Chewed.

Then I heard crashing waves, calling of seagulls, boats bumping against each other, and the gentle breeze.

Out of shock I opened my eyes.

I gasped, with the chewed food in my mouth.

I was still sitting on the metal chair and dining on the metal table, but I wasn’t in the cafeteria. I was…

I was in front of the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.

Her golden hair long enough it reached her waist, and her fair skin white and radiant. Sunlight glittered off of her hair. She wore a white dress, and its loose sleeves swayed ever so gently in the zephyr.

In front of a pretty girl, at a fishing dock.

The food remained in my mouth.

“My name is…” She parted her pink lips and attempted to speak, her voice was frail.

Her voice shook.

My body shook.

“M… My name…” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she smiled. “You never opened your eyes… I… I was so lonely.”

Lonely. I was too lonely.

I wanted to cry.

I too, wanted the world to recognise my existence.

“Forget about worldly tasks.” The maiden dried her tears, “And… stay with me… Savor… Don’t leave me again. Don’t…”

I grasped her hands with mine, unable to speak as the food remained in my mouth.

She laughed, her laugh was softer than the wind, softer than the clouds in the sky.

“You have… saved me…” I managed to squeeze out these words.

“No, you saved… me.”

I swallowed.

Gone.

Gone.

I have gone back to the cafeteria.

Cold concrete and boisterous crowds.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because I savored my food once more.

I will continue to savor my food and separate myself from worldly pain.

I have saved her.

I saved her.

I savored.

Savor.

Saviour.

Savor.

Photography: Snapshots From Quarantine, by Helena Steger

 

Photography: The City Is Alive Again, By Lee D

 

Context: This image was shot on November 7th, 2020, capturing the joy people felt as they danced on the streets of New York City after hearing the news that Joe Biden won the election.