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PERSONAL REFLECTION

WHEN I LEAVE by SIRIN JITKLONGSUB (Thailand)

Issue 1.3   December 2019

Mixed in with this hot, mouth-watering aroma is the smell of my mother's perfume, my father's cologne, my sister's shampoo. I drink it all in deeply, filling my lungs until I can't anymore. These are the scents I will take with me when I leave this house.

OCEAN by ELLA GREEN (New Zealand)

Issue 1.3  December 2019

I try to think of death as an ocean; uncharted and unknown, but vast, and maybe even beautiful in the way only a storm could be. Standing here, amid this desert of salt and sea and sand, I am reminded that this life is a gift.

GROCERY LIST OF ESSENTIALS by MARGHERITA MORO (Italy)

Issue 1.3   December 2019

The grass stings my thighs and whispers at me to move my legs so that it may look upon the stars as well, but I refuse (7: itch). With my eyes turned towards the above backwards, I feel my eyes zooming in and out of a focus point, moving from a star

A VILLAGE SUMMER by BAYA LAIMECHE (United States)

Issue 1.2   September 2019

She spoke with her hands, weaving stories out of air and breathing life into them with her words. I watched her in fascination as she sparkled, a kaleidoscope of color and emotion, drawing me in with the magnificence of her beauty.

CHILDHOOD by GRACE LOVE (Australia)

Issue 1.2   September 2019

We walked along the small terrace of grass, the blinding heat of the sun forgotten in our conversation. The road which we walked parallel to was a few meters below us and we were careful not to push each other down the embankment.

SOUL TREATMENT by BIANCA NWOKEJI (Nigeria)

Issue 1.1   April 2019

Someone once asked me; "Bianca, why do you write?"

 On hearing that, my lips arched with a flashed smile and I replied with complete honesty.

 "Ever saw something so wrong but couldn't change it?

YOU HAVE FOUND LOVE by MAYA LINSLEY (Canada)

Issue 1.1   April 2019

I found love in the plastic heart of a run-down souvenir shop. Sweat had dried in a sticky landscape across my back, and I was out of breath from the sheer force of the midday sun, and I was standing in between . . . 

PERFECT CHURROS by ISABEL ALTAMIRANO (Canada)

Issue 1.1   April 2019

"Vente, mi amor, help me with dinner." I bound over to the kitchen, shooting a full-brace grin up at my abuela. She chuckled, patting me on the back, and led me to the counter.

"Here is the recipe", she said, waving to an ancient book . . .