2020 Ampersand Literary Journal: Volume V, Taejon Christian International School, South Korea

AMPERSAND Literary Magazine

-MASTHEADStaff, Writers & Contributing Editors

Publisher

TCIS Ampersand Club

Seniors

Minha Choi

Julie Christine Chung

Hoyeon Lim

Jasmine Kang

Sara Kim

Jimin Kim

Matt Choi

Supervisor

Ms. Katherine Tucker Editors-in Chief

Minha Choi

Julie Christine Chung

Sophomores

Yana Polichko

Catherine Park

Seoyun Kim

Graphic Designer

Julie Christine Chung Art Director

Julie Christine Chung

Guest Artists

Jennifer Lee

Printer

Chun Il Printing, Daejeon

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2019-2020 //

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Table of

Contents Kristina Erny Minha Choi Jimin Kim Yana Polichko Jimin Kim Yana Polichko Seoyun Kim Julie Christine Chung Minha Choi Julie Christine Chung Sara Kim Catherine Park Jasmine Kang Minha Choi Sara Kim Catherine Park Hoyeon Lim Hoyeon Lim Julie Christine Chung Jasmine Kang Julie Christine Chung Hoyeon Lim

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‘&’ - Ampersand Preface City (c. 2017 / 2:13am) Vanished limbo piano-town sound of the silent Deception The Bed Heroine it's 3am Polaroids End Game Offred III’s (cell) bedroom window late summer of korea, ’19 The Space Between Us Gelato (Celestial) Body Language Anxiety Our farewell (His Beatitudes) 2 Matthews 5:3-12 (NIV) picture this.

Practical Math

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Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

“

“An ampersand is, simply put, a symbolic representation of a sentence’s connective tissue, the conjunction, “and.” We write to make a mark. We write to interpret the world. We write to make sense.

We write to say, to see, to experience, to comment, to judge, to create. We sew up the edges of ourselves, we let the inside come out, & we weave it all together again into a new creation. Writing is about connection. An ampersand is also about connection. The connection between sentences becomes the metaphor for who we are.”

Kristina Erny Founder

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City (c. 2017 / 2:13am) Minha Choi (12) Listless, pulling at your sheets as you wait for the inevitable Aware Still, of the distant sounds of honking cars and mild chatter, The streetlights dimming as the city starts to sleep Wind at your face, not quite gentle, but unfierce, The myriad lives, not together yet intertwined You think back on the memories, faint hints of what used to be— Some good, some bad; they all just fade into a bittersweet mess You’ve lived an extraordinary life So many places with so many people So many goddamn experiences And they may be lost, gone forever now With nothing but my own requiem as solace But on nights like these, when the city lights shine faintly and the once-bustling sound of humans comes to a slow, steady rhythm When the wind is all there is to keep me company When it’s finally quiet enough for my conscience to shine on individual lives, just tiny stars in this vast universe I find myself lost in this world of my own— these city walls that give their all, tirelessly, to preserve my invisible treasures.

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Ampersand Magazine

Julie Christine Chung (12)

Poetry & Art

2

Vanished Jimin Kim (12) You’d place me In your icy snow globe White Snow Gently Falling People say, Winter wonderland White Snow Heavily Falling I’m pounding, Glass of adamantine Gray Snow Vigorously Falling You’d shake, Destroy me into Brightly colored glitter There, I’d vanish Into one of your Masterpieces

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Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

Poetry & art

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limbo

Yana Polichko (10)

An unshakeable spell.

One room.

One door, two windows.

And there was a bed.

I sit there, cold, in front of my laptop in my unwashed jeans.

My screen stares back with a glare, it feels hot underneath these sheets.

Breathless.

To open up the window, to get up briefly, A simple menial task, flowers bloom quicker than me.

5

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

piano-town

Jimin Kim (12)

cold hands gently placed on black and white wood,

-- a delicate press --

an angry hammer, bothered by the touch

-- a furious bang --

the cuffed strings, woken up by the bang

-- a perfect pitch C --

together, we make a marvelous tune.

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

Poetry & art

6

sound of the silent Yana Polichko (10) Strings scratched and being plucked weaving to a beat Causing my scalp to bleed; Calling out to me, Like a child to a mother I get dragged to the very melody —which I despised; Grow to love and feel Like a chalkboard grinding bones Stripping me down, Starting from my clothes Counting each curve and bump; An instrument with a solid body, No way to resonate

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

Only could it make the sound

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Ampersand Magazine

Deception

Seoyun Kim (10)

I met her She was half of me And I was half of her I was whole when I was with her And she was whole with me.

Once she was hit Her life drained out She moved on, When I couldn’t.

Julie Christine Chung (12)

Julie Chung (11)

Then she came back Was she here to haunt?

Or was she here to help?

She made me hold the knife And face it at another man She whispered in my ears Sweet, sweet words.

My hands are red Red as crimson I tell them that it was not me But they don’t believe it.

Was I deceived?

Or did I deceive myself?

Poetry & art

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9

Hoyeon Lim (12)

AMPERSAND Magazine

The Bed

Julie Christine Chung (12)

the bed is damp. an old man’s childhood ghosts flicker at the edge of the bed they still haunt him. the lines running about crinkled within the bedsheets matches the etching on his face. they’ve gotten deeper. his hands are so still they’re trembling to keep up. the bed is damp. remember? he’s still there like an afterthought. the bed is damp sweat soaked and so fucking gone reeking of piss drenched sheets the smell of old embarrassments. there’s a bed, and on top is a man. so still; they whisper that he has passed.

Jennifer Lee (Alumni) Poetry & Art

10

Heroine

Minha Choi (12)

that girl, over there in that picture frame— she was an enigma swathed in a ribbon of allure and she taught me all that I grew to cherish in this world (and all I aspired to be.) she—listen— she was quintessentially ‘kindness’— her tenor must have been crafted for hours on end by an angel’s meticulous fingertips and patience. she taught me of humility and resilience through darkness and how laughter could double as the sleigh bells of eternity. she was at once riveting, whimsical—alive!— I was airborne just from the rush of being nearby, but in a year her inner piloting plunged turbulent,

battered by dense mercurial tears.

I guess she never had an inkling of what she meant to me or to everyone else in the city since that photo is all she left before forsaking the rest of us to our grief.

11

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

and sometimes I wonder… if heaven was even real to her— because she stopped letting herself look up at the sky.

I guess it’s all done, now but though it’s too late, I still wanted to tell her that she was my hero, and that I wish she hadn’t chosen to crumble away, alone and

worn and

deathly afraid

because to me,

her laugh was what heaven could sound like and her soul was the epitome of grace.

Poetry & Art

12

it’s 3am

Julie Christine Chung (12)

it’s 3am where everything is cold whispers a little too loud eyes flickering and heavy but light all at once it’s 3am and i’m hoping the version of yourself i see in the daylight have been a front it’s 3am, i’m hopingyou’ll be vulnerable with me soul bared to the world with only me as witness it’s 3am, butthe version of yourself, the one who toes the line between love and pain doesn’t change. at 3 am the version of yourself all brazen hatred and ugliness melts into a beautiful package; it’s my favorite daydream.

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Ampersand Magazine

Polaroids

Sara Kim (12)

polaroids i hang them on my walls sometimes i look at each of them and wonder if i can travel through them all sometimes i wish i’d get tired of these memories but memories always seem to come back to me. “i’ll be back soon” i said “pinky promise” i said maybe i’ll come back one day maybe i won’t maybe i want to be trapped by the things that i can’t come back to.

Sara Kim (12)

Poetry & Art

14

End Game

Catherine Park (10)

I keep playing a never ending game I try - desperately finding the end game The floor keeps shaking The crowd keep screaming The thunder - electricity flowing through my veins I freeze in the moment I can’t think for a second, Regrets for ever playing Regrets for ever trying The words build up The words tear me up I keep playing a never ending game and I win - finally, reaching the end game

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Julie Christine Chung (12)

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Ampersand Magazine

Julie Christine Chung (12)

Offred III’s (cell) bedroom window Jasmine Kang (12) Once the window is left ajar just enough for one hand to escape, i liberate my left hand let it feel the moisture-laden air Pulling it out before it slams shut, i wait for another three.

Once the window allows it, my right does the same i feel envious of my two hands, glare at them in desperation. if i could only be Alice, i’d so gladly munch on the piece of cake “eat me” and i’d slam the bottle “drink me” —the potion would smear the carpet scattering glass pieces before i tie the knot around my neck and free my entire body— at last i stare at the carved phrase, now smeared in crimson-red: “Nolite te bastardes Carborundorum”.

Poetry & Art

1818

late summer of korea, ’19.

Minha Choi (12)

Sick of this oppressive heat,

I plunge into the biting cold The numbing ice like frigid knives

piercing through my veins.

My heart clamped shut, limbs paralyzed

yet I’m soothed by this escape— I’d rather drown, I realize,

than boil and shrivel and melt away.

Junghyun Kim (12)

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Ampersand Magazine

Ampersand Magazine

The Space Between Us Sara Kim (12) Returning to a home distant yet so close Seeing you is like viewing planets through telescopes Maybe through all this chaos and confusion brought down to us on this tiny pale blue dot suspended in a sunbeam We can overcome many things travel through planets and the multiverse I will find peace and serenity in your eyes As I gaze upon the billion years, the collapsing and re-emerging stars concentrated in you.

Sara Kim (12)

Poetry & Art

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Gelato Catherine Park (10) My hands can’t count the number of times I wished Where my youth ran wild, the wide streets we played in.

The shop stays open as they give away The Gelato ice cream I love to this day.

I remember those times Those days of my life Eating away the Gelato Where my youth still plays

21

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

(Celestial) Body Language Hoyeon Lim (12) I gaze at the moon

I see

the same moon you do Shakespeare, Dickens, Dostoyevsky,

the same moon as you because— because,

the moon was bright like always there

for us

and when dark was the night

and the moon burns bright

gold was gold

sweet home was home

When I gaze at the sun I become blind

Sara Kim (12)

Poetry & Art

22

Anxiety Hoyeon Lim (12) Anxiety is the most common mental illness according to WHO. Despite the fact that nobody still knows what to do.

Good luck getting the help yourself, and it’s harder to help yourself.

Because you can’t be treated when nobody knows you.

Everyday is a fray for what to say And you stay away from mates lest they be knaves.

But you yourself can’t parley in truths, Forgery and fraud is what your day amounts to.

You lie and sleep and you lie awake Riddled with the thoughts that make your heart ache.

Because if nobody is fond of fucking you, Just maybe nobody is fucking fond of you.

Alone, we never stood a chance nor together a stance.

But if we start from scratch, maybe we’ll see your significance.

Anxiety has always been the enemy making you a worrier.

So confide in me and we can make you be a warrior.

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Ampersand Magazine

Hoyeon Lim (12)

Poetry & Art

24

Our farewell

Julie Christine Chung (12)

i. when sunrise seem impossible and time, stilted, hiccups bound with tightening grasps, dawn hints her inevitable entrance, peaking around the doorway -impatientIntrusive. ii. dawn flushes,

red orange pink and violet but enters regardless.

sanctuary disrupted, fields of hazy roses-trampledburied in new dawn’s light.

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Ampersand Magazine

Sara Kim (12)

Poetry & Art

26

(His Beatitudes) 2 Matthews 5:3-12 (NIV) Jasmine Kang (12) 3

4

when i stroke down her smooth, silky hair when i leave a small peck on her rouged lips when i place both hands on her slim, slender waist

5

how she turns when i call her name how she holds my hand and twirls it around in that j o y f u l r h y t hm how she wins me over at her coquettish charm

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wiping off the dusty dining table putting tireless children to sleep doing these dull household chores

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i also realize blessed are the happy

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even when i know she isn’t

9

but she knows i dislike complaints

i realize blessed are the beautiful

10 and

that is when

i truly realize

blessed are the silent

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11

may my beautiful, happy, silent doll stay blessed

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forever.

Ampersand Magazine

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

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Julie Christine Chung (12)

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Ampersand Magazine

picture this.

Julie Christine Chung (12) picture this. you’re in a room full of strangers but they all look strangely familiar. you’re in a room and the walls are white but covered in layers of posters and the walls are caving in. you’re in a room and people are staring at you and you realize you’re covering your ears because you can hear their eyes. you’re in a room and their mouths are moving and you don’t know if the slurred words are the walls or the people. you’re in a room and the people are shouting at the walls and the walls are shouting back but it’s all so quiet and so loud all at the same time. and you want something to hold on to but it feels like if you try to touch something you’ll shatter. burst into jagged edges embedded in a wall like the pins trapping the posters.

the other people in the line are staring and their whispers feel like screams. you’re in a room and there’s people in a line, some of them are shatteringyou see yourself in the flying edges of their glassy shards the corner of your ear is flying away and you’re staring at the others and they’re staring at you, and everything is dark stilted and in the midst of it all you’re writing a poem: picture this.

you’re in a room and the air is going dark. it’s -heavy. there’s something wrongbut the doctor next to you is smiling, he’s saying you’re fine and you’re clutching your chest, and you’re telling him you’re having a heart attack or you’re dying and he shows you the line and tells you to wait.

30 Jennifer Lee (Alumni)

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Practical Math Hoyeon Lim (12) 2, 6, 10 ,13, 15 2a, 2b, 2c, and 2d If I had a nickel for every chance you gave me And all of this makes cents then, give me fifteen I got a whole buncha math homework, dawg.

I got a buncha personal problems I need to work on.

Rotating shapes like I can’t see your face You scatter my thoughts with a plot that I can’t trace The way that you swing is like a tune that I can’t change To translate: you’re stuck in your very own domain and I’m range

I can’t derive you are my ex and I can’t justify why

You know, we were supposed to be nigh—like the alphabet’s x and y

But it turns out it’s only in graphs where we were x and y

Because we only meet when both of us feel like nothing

And it’s clear that we each have our own directions.

Some days I just think that none of this was real, you feel?

And by ‘this’ of course I’m talking about you and i

And when I say ‘i’, I don’t mean myself but the imaginary number,

Did you know that in electronics, they use ‘j’ for that symbol?

Because ‘i’ is already taken and it means current,

But let’s just say I’m not currently taken.

So anyway, enough with i and j

And when you reply to my text, it looks like you’re enough with just k So...

Here’s a word problem while I have a word with my own problems I’m doing eighty miles per hour headed towards rock bottom But our relationship is going south on a bearing of 20 degrees How am I bearing the fact that I don’t have the one that I need So please, even if you weren’t the one, you were at least the four-fifths Math is life—when you suck at it, you never know what you’ll end up with.

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Ampersand Magazine

Hoyeon Lim (12)

Poetry & Art

32

-Final-

Open Submission: We accept creative writing* and visual art**. No fees apply.

There are no restrictions to the number of pieces you can submit; however, in the case of written pieces, especially prose, we request that you keep the word count below 2500 words. If your piece exceeds the limit, we ask you to consider submitting an excerpt instead. *Creative writing consists of any poetry, prose, short story, script, or novel excerpt. **Visual art consists of any 2D drawing, painting, illustration, portraiture, or photography.

Editors’ Prize Writing

Minha Choi

Hoyeon Lim

Seoyun Kim Art

v.

Julie Chung Hoyeon Lim Jennifer Lee Ampersand Magazine

Submissions must be sent via email to chungj2021@tciscommunity.com The body of the email must contain your Full Name: Grade: Type of piece: (Prose, Poetry, Visual Art, etc.)

Title of piece: (Optional) Writer’s Note: Please include your work as a .docx ATTACHMENT and NOT pasted in the body of the email.

Visual Art is preferred scanned at minimum 600*600 DPI. Photographs must exceed - at minimum - 1000 pixels for both length and width.

Submitted photos should be greater than 2 MBs in size.

Raw files such as .tif, .cr2, .dng, .nef, .crw, etc. are preferred over compressed .jpg, .png, and .gif files.

Any questions or other messages should be sent to chungj2021@tciscommunity.com or communicated to the current supervisor [tuckerk@tcis.or.kr]

Ampersand Literary Magazine is a student-led club at Taejon Christian International School. Through writing, students learn to become fluent in the language of emotions. By sharing personal pieces, students become aware of the diversity of stories which people hold.

Ampersand also hosts peer-revision workshops where students build themselves and others into critical analyzers of literature. Overall, students learn to accept themselves as who they are and find beauty in both their flaws and strengths. Ampersand’s value for creativity extends beyond literary pieces, as photography, mixed media, and paintings, submitted by talented student and teacher artists, bring this magazine to life.

This year’s published magazine marks Ampersand’s third year return from a twoyear hiatus. During this time, our new members have learned about writing, design, and themselves. It was a time of healing; we transferred emotions onto paper and shared our hearts with this group of passionate writers that felt like family.

Thank you TCIS, Mr. Sanabria, Mrs. Gudenrath, Ms. Tucker, Ampersand, and you, our readers, for a wonderful adventure.

We hope that you will join us again soon.

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