Scales Magazine Issue V

Table of Contents

Cover Page by Aanchal Lakhyani

Editor's Note by Emilie Mendoza About Balboa Talks

Lonely Perfect Depths by Marie Schwarz

WWW by Marie Schwarz

Fiction 1 5 7 9

The Grotesque by Ben Codirla Liebestraum by Emilie Mendoza Passionless Crimes by Dana Angrisano Botellas by Jorge Alcedo

Nonfiction

Stockholm Syndrome and Shakespeare’s Shrew by Isaac Wright-Muller Enhancing Childhood With Montessori Education by Francesca Desogus Who's afraid of Katharina Minola? by Emilie Mendoza ¿Cómo Puedo ser Mejor en estos Tiempos tan Complicados? by Celia Kuriakuz

Una Carta a Patronio... by Uxia Reyes El Matiz del Profesor by Francesca Calvosa

Poetry

Missed Call (3) by Emilie Mendoza You Know I Miss You by Romina Alatorre

An Ode to my Lover by Romina Alatorre

A Truth and a Lie by Henrique Ferreira Durante una Mirada - La Oreja de Van Gogh by Anabella Bermudez Adam & Eve (Adan Y Eva) by Marie Schwarz

27 28 29 30 31 32

Jarcha by Rhea Chugani Cántiga de Amigo by Rhea Chugani Villancico by Rhea Chugani Romance by Rhea Chugani Jarcha by Alejandro Carvallo Cántiga de Amigo by Alejandro Carvallo

Jarcha by Sara Fraga Cántiga de Amigo by Sara Fraga Villancico by Sara Fraga Romance by Sara Fraga Moxaja by Sara Fraga Trovadoresca by Sara Fraga Cántigas de Amor by Sara Fraga Jarcha by Kevin Tolcach Cántiga de Amigo by Kevin Tolcach Cantar d'Gesta by Lucas Aleman, Rebecca Rabzcuk, Nicolas Schiavi, Rhea Chugani, and Mia Rodriguez La Traición del Amor by Ambar Lara, Maria José Gutierrez, Mauro Vergati, Nicholas Heilbrom, and Javier Cerrud Doble Traición by Carlos Lee, Luciana Calvosa Monica Williams, Raquel Ardón, and Leah Padmore

Art(ists)

Milan Cohen Aanchal Lakhyani Grace DeVries Melis Ayhan Brune Castillon Romina Alatorre Anabella Bermudez Diego Miranda Isabella Rios

33 35 36 36 36 37 38 38 39 39 39 40 40 41 41 42 42 43 44 45

0 4 8 11, 26 16 19 29 34 37

Masthead

English Prose and Poetry Editor: Emilie Mendoza

Nonfiction Editor: Mai Lee Berghaus

Spanish Prose and Poetry Editor: Emilia Salazar

Layout Editor: Francesca Calvosa

Art Editor: Mai Lee Berghaus

Editor's Note

This end-of-fiscal-year issue of Scales contains stories, essays, poems, and everything in between. It comes at a moment where the arts are taking a new priority in our communityfrom essayists being created in la profesora Hurtado's classes to new poets reading their work at open mics. More than that, this issue comes as a form of appreciation to the creative works of our peers.

So I ask you to, as you read ahead, take time to really connect with the pieces being showcased. Shine the spotlight on them, engage with them. And once the (metaphorical) snow clears away, start writing again.

In the meantime, our Balboa Talks officers (listed in the previous page) are thrilled to present our winter 2022 issue of Scales.

Your editor, Emilie Mendoza

Art by: Milan Cohen

FICTION

The Grotesque

Winner of the Isadora Lou Short Story PRize 2022

Long has it been since her shrieks filled me with perturbation; long has it been, yet time could not diminish the unfathomable horrors which my recollection provokes. Oh! how I convulse at the smell, that pungent sanguine odour, which pervaded the lugubrious antechamber; how I shudder to remember the storm that battered my very existence on the eve of my eternal torment Thunderous was His rage on that night, choleric were His lacerations of lighting and wind against our ancient, oaken manor; the birth was predisposed to ruin. I can reason it by only this: in the tumult of the tempest my staunch caution was the vanquished, and I ajar left a window, through which he crept - Tempter, Devil. For truly devilish was that parturition which did my Melpomene leave necrosed, and me with but a token, a token of that evil - a grotesque spawn, worthy of an end most ghastly It pains me greatly to remember the loss I suffered on that night, to see my lone confidant of this dismal realm stripped away from me, stolen by seed of my own. Oh, Melpomene! It was you who wrought light into these shadowy halls, who set my heart ablaze with arduous passion; still I inhabit our funereal home - a force inexplicable binds me to it, an impermeable sheath corrals me within its labyrinthian halls - yet without your sumptuous glory, your magnificent smile, I see no propitious portents for me here - I have been condemned to desolation with fiendish company. That abominable child, born of death, hounds my every step. While pondering over ancient tomes in the depths of my solitude, hidden among the vermilion drapes and the looming shelves of the ancestral library, the incessant pitter patter of its truncated legs reverberates about my ears. Inescapable is its hideous form, the image of which has ever failed to flee my imagination; its vulgarly contorted limbs jut from its torso like gnarled branches of a corroding oak, its osseous spine arches malevolently, precariously upholding a large misshapen head, whose pulped features are

horridly concentred. In its deformity, its senses are lost to it, and so, groping, the beast crawls, driven by what I can only assume are Hell’s temptations Chiefly vile among all its hellish attributes, however, is the large blemish stricken across its temple, obfuscated only by a crown of densely tangled hair. It is this ovular omen which plagues me most. As I hear the creature stumble, cloddish, about the winding corridors of my home, and groan its agonising, guttural cry, that large mole stabs at my consciousness - how it devastates the memory of my lost Melpomene, oh, how her remembrance is slowly consumed by the effigy of our brutish spawn!

Too long have I slunk through the penumbra of this decayed estate, cowering from the sight of my offspring. Food I deposit in the kennels every morn, and food I find consumed by the malformed creature every twilight; how it traverses my godforsaken abode I know not. Through clandestine tunnels, barred by contraptions only operable by me, I move about this hold, yet I still hear it inexorably trudging, grunting, and squealing along, a loathsome swine sleepless in its object - to torture its progenitor. I can only wonder what shelter it finds within my halls, for that care is beyond my compassion - I labour to make this world as inhospitable to it as it has made the world to me. How dare it tarnish the only veritable love this poor heart did ever know! I could not repugn anything with more fervour than I do now this wretch. Oh, how I despise it with primordial wrath, one that suffuses my whole spirit and consumes my every waking hour; I do not sleep for the ire which fills me at the creaking of the floorboards, the rustling of the curtains, and the opening of the doors, as each of these is but an allusion to the monstrous brute that I have fathered. In my frequent bouts of rage, during which my distress cedes dominion, I come the closest to this bastard; I storm to its current chambers, avert my eyes from its distorted limbs and mangled features, and hoist it in the air; with God’s fury I intend to dash it reeling to the inferno from whence it came, yet as it flails about, gargling, in my grasp, a vulnerable grotesque, what pity overcomes me! Yes, it is vile and repulsive, but am I not then it should I consummate the deed? Am I then not the beast itself? Thus, I am slowed in my hatred. It was in one of these spurts of ire, however, that I erred irreversiblythrough my duplicitous schemes it was that I doubled my woes. As my gall

was insufficient to rebel against my freakish tormentor, so did I seek out a subordinate, one who would abate my suffering without besmirching my integrity, the integrity of my Melpomene, and a beastly subordinate I did find. A more ferocious animal than ever could be conceived I did purchase, and mightily did it struggle as I transported it from the surreptitious markets to my grim dwelling. It was a great black hound, with sable fur from head to hinds, gleaming, scarlet eyes, and gnashing jaws that could tear me limb from limb; much time I spent in avoidance of its titanic fangs as I shepherded it home, where I hoped it would devour Satan’s child. Oh how misguided I was! How was I so dimwitted to see the fate that awaited me, that now harrows my soul and flesh? I remember vividly how merry I had been upon locking the two beasts in the same chamber; how filled with jubilation I had been that a smile never so wide sprawled across my visage when I saw the inordinate canine stride toward the perverse devil, teeth bared, glinting. Woe is me, however, for come the morrow, as I opened the chamber doors, what more did I see but the two in jocund company, tumbling and wrestling, the depraved infant for once not grunting in agony but in twisted felicity How I recall those horrific moans, and how through them, the despicable mutt caught scent of me, and, snarling, howled a shrill howl that shall never vacate the recesses of my mind.

And so now I sit, trembling and hunched over my parchment, attempting to quell the tremors that plague me, and detailing my misery, for I am beleaguered by devil and devil-spawn. The groans grow ever constant, the howls of the hound become more sonorous and resounding, and the shadows that dance beguilingly across my halls seem more malignant and shapely. The cur, more extroverted than its new master, I encounter now with increasing frequency, and where it once sheathed its voraciousness at my rebukes, it now holds me in complete contempt and irreverence; I am to it nothing but a plaything - its prey. I have managed only to anger it with objects thrown and glass shattered, and a splinter I inflicted upon it has flared its bloodlust and its insatiable desire to devour me. Above all this, however, what is most chilling, is that, like my disfigured offspring, it too has adopted that hellish birthmark, right between its two ears; it is crowned by Beelzebub’s might.

I feel the both of them, now fully subservient in the Devil’s yoke, pursuing

me madly. The padding of their feet grows closer each night; in fact, on this very night I hear it more than ever. The very windows shudder, the curtains thrash, and the wind bellows Oh, how close is my end! I hear the beasts’ cries, I hear their plots against me, I hear the rage they harbour deep within their bosoms. How they creep! How they creep toward me! Snarling fills the air, the screams of my lost love, the stench of my own demise; oh, they come to mutilate me, I am sure of it! I have lived in fear of the grotesque, and now, I shall perish at its hands!

by: Aanchal Lakhyani

Art

Emilie Mendoza - Class of 2024

Liebestraum

RunneR-Up For the Isadora Lou Short Story PRize 2022

All it takes is a nosebleed.

The sound of a train horn is heard in the distance. He wonders if this is the way everyone like him enters the world - blade raised, sun set, and air still around him.

This was the forest of the three eyed deer.

It had been all anyone talked about when it happened. Those folk tales of burnt out kids who followed the three eyed deer to the dirt path just outside town, past the train tracks. He remembered vividly hearing the story from an aunt who hadn’t wanted to tell him the truth back when he was still young enough to believe the deer was real But now, he knew the deer were nothing more than a way to be absolved of guilt. Then again, he still recognizes the forest as one where kids like him came to hide forever. Even now, blood trickling down his face and adrenaline pushing him to keep running deeper into the thick of the woods, he recognizes that it is easier to say he was chasing after a three eyed deer. It’s so much easier than admitting it was homecoming that finally pushed him away for good.

To put it this way:

Homecoming queen this year was a pianist with a trust fund and uneven bangs. Her main claim to fame was her twin brother, who everyone was sure played better than her but no one could quite recall his name or his face. So she won the accolades and got to wear a pretty tiara to go with

her pretty dress and pretty heels.

He hears rustling in the leaves to his right He clutches the Swiss Army knife closer to his chest, as if it’ll protect his lungs more this way. He’s tasting blood now, so he swipes across his face with the sleeve of his free hand. It fails to clear anything away and instead smears it further.

On the morning after the homecoming dance, the queen sat before her piano, slightly hungover and slightly more careless than one ever should be She played the first notes of Liebestraum No 3 and though her fingers stung through the muscle memory, she blamed it on the aftertaste of cheap liquor from the night before. It was only at the end of the solo that she saw the blades tucked between each key by her brother the night before. Of course they were placed by her brother; this is how he enters the worldblades sharpened, sun rising, and the air still around him.

He was gone before she was found with her mutilated hands. He had seen the three eyed deer rushing past residential blocks and chased after Now he stands in the forest, leaves blocking out all the natural light. Before him are three eyes, then six, then two hundred and twenty two, and then none.

The scent of blood attracts predators, after all.

Passionless Crimes

RunneR-Up For the Isadora Lou Short Story PRize 2022

I’ve lost all remaining fright over the past two years. Ghosts or demons never scared me; I’m not very religious. Bats, heights, and the dark, were just mundane parts of life. Human trafficking scared me. Crimes of passion, too… but recently I’ve noticed that the chances of coming across with these are minimal. The daily dissatisfaction that I am trapped with is much more frightening

I would rather feel a moving urge to kill, than to not feel anything at all. The feeling of sedation, when I know there’s no waking up to marvelous lipo results, is intolerable. All demonic things we wish not upon our life, I now dream upon with guilt. “Attention, Attention… I’ve been in a tragic car accident”; I should fear being in this situation, but what’s fearful is that no matter the pitch of my scream, no heads

turn round

To be scared all the time, with nothing to fear is so-called “paranoia”; But “para” is to protect, and “noia” means bride. This would be shocking if I hadn’t already been sending S.O.S signs to a non-existent recipient. I’m no bride- yet- but I, too, must be saved. What’s the difference anyway, both me and the bride are insecure and vomiting to fit in a lovely tight-knit dress.

Returning to society's “rational” fears… needles, public speaking, cockroaches, “help”! Poor them with their fear of rodents, meanwhile I’m tested like one once a month because I fear myself. Odd, cause I’m sure I’m capable of more harm than a rat. Not to brag, but I’ve been slowly killing myself since winter break of 2019.

And so I urge you to stop fearing something as idiotic as a witch, cause a witch you will become. Fear what’s in your hands, cause it's rarely

something you can hold. Fate is irreversible, take it from me… the last time I felt anything, I was around four-teen.

Art by: Grace DeVries

Botellas

RunneR-Up For the Isadora Lou Short Story PRize 2022

Ya van dos semanas, dos semanas desde su muerte. “¡Qué pena!” “¡Pobrecitos sus hijos!” estas frases son lo único que he escuchado flotando entre los sollozos y pésames que solo sirvieron para recordarme del dolor. Pero estoy bien, no ha pasado nada, estoy perfecto, su muerte dolió pero aun me muevo, aun debo. Pero rebuscando entre su armario solo encuentro razones para desplomarme e hibernar, apagado, sin luz, sin vida. Pero estoy bien, eso ya no me afecta, unos tragos y se me pasa, ahogando mis penas, cantando “¡Si el mar se volviera ronnnnn y el río de la villa cervezaaaa!….” freno mi desafinado canto pues alcanzó a ver lluvia, no un rio de cerveza ni un mar de ron, sino lágrimas, lágrimas que encharcan el piso y piadosas ciegan la vista de mi cara en el espejo, ahogado entre un mar de ron y whiskey lo único que me queda es dolor, arrastrado de bar a bar por culpa de la botella, pues es esa, ¡ESAAA! ¡Ese licor maldito me controla! ¡No es mi culpa! ¡Yo no tengo la culpa! ¡Te lo juro! ¡Créeme! Te lo ruego.

Me he calmado, no te preocupes, ya pasó, lo siento mucho. Estoy un poco nervioso, no tenía con quien hablar sobre estas experiencias, así que te lo agradezco por escucharme. Fue su culpa, morir fue su culpa, si él quería seguir vivo, debió vivir más, ¡Desgraciado! Como me pudo dejar solo, El sabia como me pone la soledad, en ella busco compania, compania de píldoras, líquidos y libros. ¿Alguna vez has leído mientras bebes? ¡Es fantástico! Te lo recomiendo, las palabras evaden tu mirada y las oraciones bailan, y en las historias de amor, ayyy como son, salen las caricias tiernas para amarte junto a los besos largos, sinceros y verdaderos, mientras que en los libros de aventuras, ¡Viajó! Soy parte del grupo, encontramos el tesoro, la clave, la respuesta, y vivimos ¡felices por siempre! Mentira, la felicidad es un mito, una leyenda, una farsa, si sonríes mientes, no estas feliz, eres un fraude, mentiroso, embustero, maldito. Odio aquellos

mentirosos sonrientes, los desprecio, pero les admiro, ¡pues que bien mienten! Cabrones todos. El murió sonriendo…. Mentiroso, como se pudo atrever a hacer eso, si vas a morir, ¡muere llorando y revolcándose en un charco enlodado de tu sucia sangre! Esa es una muerte, lo de él fue un fraude, maldita sonrisa tan falsa como la misma felicidad.

Ya van tres semanas, increíble como pasa el tiempo, ya lo olvidé, lo supere, realmente el tiempo sana todo. No, no es verdad, el tiempo no sana todo, su muerte no cambia, el murió, qué maldito, dejándome solo con botellas que me gritan, gritan a todo pulmón, y solo logro callarlas al dejarlas vacías, fue su culpa Que triste su muerte, sus hijos, familiares y amigos, abandonados, y el muerto… sonriendo, riendo a carcajadas, ¿de mí? ¿¡Se estaba riendo de mí!? Si, si, si, él se rió de mí, y de mí nadie se ríe. Fue su culpa morir así, como se atreve a sonreír, a mentir, a vivir así, que bien que murió. ¿Has escuchado a Ricardo Arjona alguna vez? Que bellas canciones, y la única que asocio con su muerte es “Me dejaste”, pero oh ¿tú nunca me dejarías, verdad? Que bueno, pues no es de mi agrado repetir aquello que sucedió mientras esa dulce canción sonaba ¿Qué hago con este cementerio de sueños? Sueños olvidados que dejé junto a tu cuerpo, sonriente y mentiroso, te dejo aquello que soñé, con la esperanza de borrar esa sonrisa, para asegurarse de que nunca mientas.

Recuerdo el día que lo dejé, solo, acostado, muerto. Desde ese día no puedo ni entrar a mi hogar, pues está minado de recuerdos, fotos, videos, cabellos y de su perfume Me dejó una sonrisa de mentira, botellas del pecado, y la imagen de su cuerpo sin vida recostado, acechando mis memorias para surgir otra vez. Confesé a un amor bello, real y puro, y el solo sonrió, habló de disparates sin saber, que a mi llanto atrajo. Intente frenar el tiempo, congelarlo antes de ver su falsedad, su sonrisa de farsante y sus palabras de traidor. Con botellas de coraje me llene, y su vida termine. No fue mi culpa, fue de él, ¿porque mienten los amados?, amados queridos, amados perdidos.

NONFICTION

Art by: Melis Ayhan

Stockholm Syndrome and Shakespeare’s Shrew

How do you tame a wild wind, a rough sea, an enraged boar? How about a roaring lion, a raging storm a crazed wolf? Or, to Shakespeare worst of all, how does one tame a shrew? Taming of the Shrew is one of William Shakespeare’s most famous comedies. The play centers around the two daughters of Signor Baptista, and the attempts of various men to court them. One of the daughters, Bianca, is beautiful and sweet and the ideal wife The other, Katherina, is widely known as curst and a shrew No man wants to marry her because of her abrasive personality, at least, no man until Petruchio. Petruchio, a bachelor who will marry anybody for the right price, takes on this apparently monumental task, and via violence, food deprivation, and sleep deprivation, all in the name of love, he tames Katherina. Or does he? In reality, Katherina is suffering from a condition called Stockholm Syndrome. She is tamed; however, her taming is only an irrational response to the abuse she suffered.

Stockholm syndrome is a psychological condition by which a person who suffers captivity or abuse at the hands of another bonds with them and begins to sympathize with them. The first recorded case of Stockholm syndrome occurred during a bank heist in 1973, and it has been perplexing therapists, psychologists, and policemen ever since (citation). Katherina’s case is a clear example of a person suffering from Stockholm syndrome. She gets married to Petruchio without ever being able to tell anybody how she actually felt about him, and then is forced to live with him He then abuses her by limiting her food, her sleep, and by forcing her to be utterly submissive. She is a captive in his house, being constantly mistreated to the point that it could be described as torture. Despite all this, at the

closing of the play, she gives a lengthy soliloquy about women’s role of submission towards men, making her love for Petruchio evident and proving she suffers from Stockholm syndrome

Having established this, it begs the question, does a case of Stockholm syndrome constitute taming? The answer is not a simple yes or no. Generally, Stockholm syndrome is treated as an illness, and victims end up spending many years in therapy so that they come to realize the evil of their captors or abusers. From this point of view, we can say that Katerina is not truly tamed We could say that she is simply suffering from a temporary illness, and that this does not constitute a true change of her views.

On the other hand, Stockholm syndrome is extremely difficult to cure, and many victims never recover. Additionally, victims are extremely reluctant to abandon their beliefs. So, it can be argued that Katerina is in fact tamed, because of the firmness and conviction which often comes with beliefs imposed by Stockholm syndrome, and the difficulty of changing these beliefs. Asking Katerina, she would certainly say that she has been tamed, so who do we trust? Do we trust the professionals, or do we trust the person?

Personally, I am somewhere in the middle. For all intents and purposes, Katerina has been tamed, and she is completely obedient to Petruchio’s will However, this state has been achieved through abuse, and can only be maintained if Petruchio maintains his volatile conduct in the name of their love. If he begins to pacify himself, Katerina may come to question his love. If his true intentions are ever revealed, Katerina will hate him for life. He must maintain a high-stakes act, where any slip-up could result in him losing his wife’s love, a love that has been so terribly misplaced. Katerina is tamed but will remain so only as long as her eyes remain clouded by her husband’s balancing act. She is tamed, temporarily.

Enhancing Childhood With Montessori Education

“Help me to help myself” is the slogan for Montessori education. The concept is simple, if we give children the respect they deserve, we foster physical health and intellectual development. Montessori schools follow a holistic curriculum that allows children to move at their own pace and focus on their interests. Traditional educational settings do not encourage learning, and young children lack many important life skills because of this. Montessori education creates well-rounded adults; its emphasis on individual learning and interests is a refreshing contrast to the restrictive traditional school system.

Young minds are not built for traditional schools, there has been a spike in ADHD cases amongst young children, and the school system can be to blame for misdiagnoses. According to Medical News Today “children who start school at a younger age more frequently receive a diagnosis of ADHD. If a child starts school having just turned 5 years old while some of their peers are closer to 6 years old, there is an approximate 20% difference in age.”. Children as young as 5 years old are being medicated for ADHD, however, the misdiagnosis of this disorder may be due to the restrictive environment of a traditional school setting. It is difficult to draw the line between a mental disorder and kids being kids during early development, this is especially true when a child is expected to sit down for an extended period of time. The average 8-year-old has an attention span of 16 minutes, yet the first-grade classes are around 45 minutes long When a child doesn’t engage, their brain simply disconnects, and it is unfair to expect children to behave like adults in a classroom environment.

On the other hand, Montessori education tailors to young children’s needs.

Maria Montessori is the creator of the learning method, dedicated her life to understanding how children learn instinctively; in fact, she initially worked in psychiatric facilities, helping what they used to call “disordered children” Montessori curriculums cover five key areas of study: practical life, sensorial, mathematics, language, and cultural studies. The most interesting area of the curriculum is practical life, and skills such as arranging flowers, washing windows, and self-care are taught in unusual ways. According to research done by the University of Virginia “survey results of the adults who had attended Montessori schools to those who had attended conventional schools. They found strong evidence of elevated psychological well-being among adults who attended Montessori schools as children.”, these findings concur with the original mission of the Montessori method, which was based on extensive observations done on children’s behaviors. We are living through what is considered a mental health epidemic, and the unnecessary stress caused by the inflexible traditional school can be combated with the comprehensive learning the Montessori method offers.

Montessori education establishes a mind-body connection Children are seeing their free time evaporate. For example, young children today spend half as much time playing outdoors as they did in the 1980s. Children need their playtime and deserve a space to grow according to their needs. Montessori education does a great job of incorporating both learning and play, giving children an outlet to unleash their imagination and spirit fully. According to Psychology Today, “Fun movement is the biologically built-in developer of body-mind-feelings awareness and management”, children learn through experience and movement, thus, it is important to follow a curriculum that allows for the most movement and play possible. Children today struggle to establish mind-body connections due to technology and the fast pace modern life has acquired, however, it is a life skill we must teach children before it’s too late. This includes learning that emotions are linked with our physical well-being. Montessori offers grounding activities such as gardening, and many schools have adopted yoga programs.

Tree climbing is a dying art among young children. Traditional school systems expect children to grow up fast, and to always behave. Biologically young children are not built to sit still in a classroom while a teacher

lectures the entire day. Montessori education is a great way to bring back the connection between kids and nature, as well as create an environment in which to learn because the system ignites curiosity within them The Montessori system is a much better alternative to the strict traditional system, and it allows children to keep playing while they learn.

Art by: Brune Castillon

Who’s afraid of Katharina Minola?

Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew repackages misogyny into comedy and tells a story of abuse’s effects on the resilience of a woman The story makes an argument about the ability to ‘tame’ a shrew. In Shakespearian terms, a shrew refers to an “ill-tempered and argumentative woman’ – or a woman who is not submissive to the men around her. In reality, the ‘shrew’ of this story, Katharina, becomes a victim of abuse to the point of submission. The play revolves around Katharina’s subjugation at the hands of her husband, Petruchio (a man who married her only due to her dowry). The Taming of the Shrew stands as one of Shakespeare’s least subversive works and opens up an analysis on the perception of abuse victims to this day to further examination.

The play’s main set up is the idea that Baptista’s ‘perfect’ daughter, Bianca, cannot get married until her older sister, Katharina, has found a husband. The only problem is that Katharina is an extremely strong-willed woman who is described as “stark mad” and “curst” by the characters around her Petruchio decides he shall be the one to marry her for her sizable dowry and is determined to ‘tame’ her. This is where the problem with the way Shakespeare describes the abuse faced by Katharina begins. The word ‘tame’ carries implications of domestication and, by extension, ownership. This simple word – used even in the title of the play – begins the objectification of Katharina at the hands of Petruchio and waters down her experiences. It serves as a justification for Petruchio’s violent outbursts, not allowing her food, not allowing her to sleep, and incessant gaslighting (depicted throughout Act IV). Unlike Shakespeare’s other works that portray the subjugation of women as tragedy (such as Hamlet’s portrayal of Ophelia), Taming of the Shrew sets out to portray it as comedy and, more harmfully, as deserved.

This idea has real world implications on the public perception and treatment of abuse victims. The question is not, “Was Katharina tamed?” The question is, “What does the mere concept of Katharina being ‘tamed’ imply about the audiences that consume that content?” More importantly, how do those audiences, in turn, affect the real-world treatment of abuse victims. The portrayal of abuse as comedy reflects recent instances of realworld abuse victims facing online mocking and vitriol with the best example of this being none other than Amber Heard.

In mid-2022, the defamation trial between Johnny Depp and his ex-wife, Amber Heard, took the internet by storm The online spectacle that followed the constant coverage of the trial fueled misogynistic public degradation aimed entirely at Heard. It did not matter that Heard was alleging victimhood to the people on Twitter ridiculing her, because to them she was not a good victim – she was far too much of a shrew – and therefore deserving not only of not being believed, but of being personally attacked by strangers. This is in line with the conclusions Taming of the Shrew sets up for the audience to reach. Katharina is not a good victim either, so her monologue at the end of Act V should be taken as a good ending rather than a tragic one. The destruction of her willpower by Petruchio is meant to be taken as a success rather than an act of oppression.

This highlights a fundamental problem with the modern MeToo movement (and those like it): they do not actually change the root of the issue. A popular sentiment today is the idea that after the original wave of the MeToo movement, all misogyny and violence against women was solved. While these movements have been able to get some individual justice, they create an opening for the general public to believe misogyny is solved and therefore implicit biases are allowed to persist. The notion that anyone, be it Katharina or Amber Heard, can be deserving of abuse is one that remains unchecked in people’s mindsets because they believe they don’t need to address it. It is justified as domestication (in Katharina’s case) or selfdefense (in Heard’s case) so that it won’t be recognized as abuse However, it is undeniably abuse.

The modern-day perception of abuse victims is one also present all the way back in the Elizabethan times, during which Shakespeare’s Taming of the

Shrew was first performed. This comedy perfectly illustrates the way abusive partners can be justified by denominating victims as ‘shrews’ and how this justification can be further twisted into comedy aimed primarily at male audiences. In its historical context, Taming of the Shrew paints an alarming picture about the portrayal of abuse in literature. However, that is not to say that this play cannot have a role in female liberation; in fact, because it is such an example of how pervasive misogynist biases are, it can (and should) be used as a way for those reading the text to learn to recognize these biases. By reframing how this play is taught to future generations, hopefully, the treatment of abuse victims can also be reframed

Art by: Romina Alatorre

¿CÓMO PUEDO SER MEJOR EN ESTOS TIEMPOS TAN COMPLICADOS?

En la obra El conde Lucanor escrita por don Juan Manuel se nos presentan 51 Ejemplos con diferentes lecciones Cada Ejemplo se basa en un tema principal del que podemos extraer una enseñanza. Similar a los jóvenes nobles del siglo XIV, como adolescente también puedo tomar algunas lecciones y aplicarlas en mi vida cotidiana. Aunque fueron escritas hace varios siglos atrás, estos mensajes siguen siendo relevantes y pueden ser usados por aquellos que procuran ser mejores personas.

Varios de los temas principales giran en torno a la confianza, prudencia y precaución Siempre tendré personas cercanas con las que guardo mucha confianza, pero también debo estar consciente de que no vivimos en un mundo perfecto. Por lo tanto, debo tener cuidado y estar al tanto de las acciones de las personas, inclusive con aquellas que guardo de cerca. Si veo que alguien me está elogiando de más o de pronto se quiere volver cercano, este cambio drástico me señala que sus acciones, aparentemente buenas, pueden tener otro objetivo detrás. En general, las acciones reflejan mucho sobre un individuo Ahora más que nunca vemos muchas personas que dicen o aparentan ser algo que realmente no son. Si este era un problema de hace siglos, es aún más prevalente ahora con las redes sociales que inhabilitan ese comportamiento, ya que las personas pueden mostrar una versión perfeccionada de su imagen o vida. A pesar de la facilidad que me ofrecen las redes para difundir ideas o información falsa, siempre debo practicar la honestidad y la responsabilidad social, ante todo.

También, podemos ver cómo los Ejemplos del libro corren con lecciones de tolerancia y riesgos. Vivimos en un mundo polarizado donde el acuerdo no entra en muchas discusiones Ya sean temas políticos o morales, vivimos en un mundo dividido y mis acciones se vuelven subjetivas. Es decir, cada persona las interpreta de distintas formas, pues tienen sus propias maneras de ver la vida o poseen escasos valores. Por ende, siempre existirán personas que juzgarán cada paso que dé. Por consiguiente, debo poder tolerar estas críticas y mantenerme fija en mi rumbo, siempre y cuando no le esté haciendo daño a nadie. Las críticas siempre estarán detrás de mí, solo se vuelven conflictivas si me dejo llevar por ellas Cuando se trate de tomar riesgos debo evaluar las posibles consecuencias con prudencia y cautela. Hay momentos en los que toca salir de mi zona de confort y arriesgarme. Dentro de todo, arriesgarse es algo bueno, ya que nos ayuda a crecer como persona. Sin embargo, si me encuentro en un buen punto de mi vida, volverme ambiciosa y arriesgada me puede costar todo.

Es esta misma ambición que nos puede llevar a la codicia y a la deshonestidad Desafortunadamente, la desigualdad socioeconómica prevalece de manera amplia en nuestra sociedad. En países como Panamá esta inequidad se atribuye a la corrupción y a la impunidad de los que tienen poder. Por la codicia de esta minoría, sufre la mayoría. Finalmente, en el intento de ser mejor persona a través de la práctica de estos valores, estoy aportando mi granito de arena en el esfuerzo de crear un mejor mundo. Aunque sea un cambio pequeño, este aporte es un grano lleno de generosidad, honestidad y unión con otras personas que, como yo, también quieren cambiar las cosas para el bien

UNA CARTA A PATRONIO…

Estimado Patronio:

A pesar de que han pasado más de seis siglos desde la publicación de la obra “El conde Lucanor”, su conocimiento sigue sorprendiendo a todos los que la leen. Usted, Patronio, fue un hombre dedicado, pues sus consejos comprueban lo sabio que fue y lo mucho que dio como consejero del conde Lucanor. A lo largo de todos sus consejos, nos demostró que siempre hay un buen camino que podemos tomar para solucionar cualquier inconveniente.

De todas las narraciones que forman parte de esta obra, mi favorita fue el Ejemplo IV: Lo que, al morirse, dijo un genovés a su alma. Considero que es muy importante porque nos enseña a valorar todo lo que tenemos y no arriesgarlo, ya que lo podríamos perder. Este Ejemplo es muy valioso porque personalmente siento que nunca estoy satisfecha con las cosas que tengo A veces me enfoco mucho en la siguiente gran meta que puedo lograr y no me doy cuenta de que debería ser feliz con aquello que ya tengo. Este Ejemplo me enseñó que debo encontrar paz y conformidad en lo que obtengo día a día y pensar bien si quiero lograr algo mayor, porque tal vez implique poner en riesgo todo lo que he alcanzado hasta este momento.

Finalmente, quiero recalcar que todos los consejos que usted le dio al conde Lucanor siguen teniendo mucha validez en estos tiempos. Definitivamente, la obra es un hermoso modelo de prosa didáctica de la época medieval. Temas relacionados con la crítica, la honestidad, la confianza en ti mismo, la tolerancia, la verdad y muchos más son tratados a lo largo de los 51 Ejemplos de este libro. Por lo tanto, puedo afirmar que sus consejos serán de gran ayuda para aquellas personas que quieran tomar la decisión de actuar de manera correcta y conseguir su felicidad.

Saludos cordiales, Uxia Reyes 11°

El Matiz Del Profesor

“Whiplash'' (2014) es un drama psicológico que gira entorno de Andrew Neiman y su relación con su profesor Terence Fletcher, un profesional en el conservatorio de música al que él asiste. “La sociedad de los poetas muertos” (1989) es un drama sobre la conexión de un profesor de literatura, el Sr. John Keating, y sus alumnos de un internado, despertando en ellos interés sobre la poesía y la importancia de vivir en el presente. Fletcher y Sr. Keating tienen maneras de “enseñar” opuestas, uno gravemente enfocado en las consecuencias de no llegar a la perfección, usualmente con tácticas violentas y humillantes, el otro centrado en el proceso único y personal de cada uno de sus estudiantes. Terence Fletcher usa la opresión del ser para enseñar, mientras que John Keating emplea la liberación del hombre como método de aprendizaje.

En una escena de “La sociedad de los poetas muertos” Todd Anderson, un personaje principal, intenta escribir una poesía, pero su miedo y ansiedad no lo dejan, como respuesta, Keating lo motiva Pero, lo empuja de una manera positiva, acompañando y guiando sus ideas para producir una pieza digna. Nunca, en su trayectoria como profesor en Welton, usa los errores de sus estudiantes como arma para intimidar, humillar o exponerlos como inferior frente a sus compañeros. Esta manera de abordar los errores, libera a los estudiantes y los incentiva a participar y ser auténticamente ellos. El propósito de Keating, es formar a librepensadores, a estudiantes independientes que rompen el concepto de “los estudiantes perfectos de Welton”.

Fletcher, en cambio, trata de moldear a sus estudiantes a ser completamente iguales en la práctica de sus instrumentos. En una escena de la película “Whiplash” Neiman está tocando la batería en frente de su clase de música. Cuando Andrew se equivoca en el tempo de la canción, Terance después de gritarle, le pega cachetadas y le tira una silla a la cabeza, la cual logra esquivar Esta escena es una de las varias ocasiones

donde violencia, verbal y física, es un método de corrección para el estudiante. La intimidación es algo usual en Fletcher, desde amenazas públicas y privadas, maneras de mirar y demás, últimamente lleva a un abuso de poder como profesor Todo esto lo usa Terance para establecer una división y jerarquía en el conservatorio, lo cual lo habilita a usar su posición de poder para actuar de una manera extremadamente dañina.

El nivel de superioridad y acomplejidad de Fletcher construye un camino para la opresión del estudiante. Con la preponderancia del profesor, se crea un sentimiento de que él es intocable, casi como si fuera un dios. Contrastándolo con Fletcher, Keating es un profesor humilde, sensible y con una capacidad de relacionarse con sus alumnos sin necesidad de crear un ambiente de clases donde alguien es clasificado como inferior o superior.

Este concepto de que Terance Fletcher es un dios de la música en el conservatorio Shaffer, despide la idea de la responsabilidad de un instructor. Keating, está consciente de su deber e impacto en los estudiantes, Fletcher está consciente de su poder sobre sus alumnos Estas son dos maneras completamente diferentes de abordar la travesía del aprendizaje. Los constantes insultos de Terance, por ejemplo, hacia sus estudiantes crean un ambiente hostil donde es imposible evolucionar y sentirse libre de crecer a nivel personal. En la sala de clases de Keating se origina un sentimiento donde ser verdaderamente uno mismo, mostrar emociones o pensamientos opuestos, no es peligroso o considerado una debilidad

Neil Perry, personaje principal de “La sociedad de los poetas muertos” audiciona y logra obtener un papel principal en una obra. El Sr. Keating está orgulloso y trata de convencerlo de seguir su sueño de actuar profesionalmente. Este acto, rompe las reglas impuestas por la familia Perry, liberando a Neil y empujándolo a alcanzar su meta. John Keating también rompe los pilares de Welton: tradición, honor, disciplina y excelencia Todos estos actos llevan a la emancipación de los estudiantes y al enfoque en el disfrute de la vida y el presente. Lo cual produce un ambiente seguro para la exploración del ser humano y su relación inter e intrapersonal.

Visualmente, “Whiplash” y “La sociedad de los poetas muertos” son completamente opuestos. En “Whiplash” las escenas se enfocan puramente en la relación de Andrew y Terance, con la cámara extremadamente cerca, para capturar las expresiones faciales y la mirada, casi siempre de odio de Fletcher. El sentimiento es de exclusión y aislamiento, mostrando pocos momentos donde Andrew está creando o manteniendo un vínculo con alguien más. En “La sociedad de los poetas muertos” nunca muestran escenas donde los personajes están solos. Siempre están acompañados, en los cuartos, las clases etc, la película muestra los nexos fuertes que se dan entre los chicos La cámara captura como un profesor incentiva, además de valorar, las conexiones humanas y el otro logra apartar a su estudiante de las cosas más importantes y lindas de la vida.

En conclusión, las dos películas usan tácticas de aprendizaje extremadamente diferentes, lo cual lleva a los estudiantes a tener experiencias y maneras de vivir opuestas. Ambas películas se enfocan en la importancia de un profesor y el impacto que tienen en la vida de sus alumnos. Fletcher y Keating, son muy buenos ejemplos de las personas de la sociedad moderna, a la mano del sistema de educación y los regímenes sociales y culturales. El manejo del poder, las jerarquías dentro del aula y el efecto de usar el conocimiento para el bien, llevan al estudiante a ser liberado u oprimido, todo depende del profesor.

POETRY

Art by: Melis Ayhan

Mendoza

Missed Call (3)

Run away from home. Do you think it’ll help? There’s an arcade from the past. I play a game I was made to lose But the sun is going down and you’re still reading or writing? Is that writing? My sister tells me to call her for emergencies only, so I call her every night before bed. Foreign lovers sit under a willow tree, tell a story about the moon and the ocean. How they met at a gas station — a party boy, a party girl Parties used to be civil before they were political. The ones that like to talk about people like me. People who come from a faraway land to steal your job because I’d rather live in a place with Diet Cherry Coke than home. Look up at the chemtrail-filled sky above Do you see yourself? There is every version of you up there. I don’t know when I last saw them all. The where no longer matters. She asked you to call when there is an emergency Pick up the phone, she’ll listen. You’re on this side of the storm-cracked sky and she’s searching We know why you did this but it's time to come home now.

You Know I Miss You

Illicit stares and forbidden affairs

I’m only 17, I don’t know anything

To the tinted windows of your eyes I cling Your stain heart remains, our love was so rare

Knowing I miss you, you must be aware

My lasting regret, just a summer thing

Your distance and your vacant smile that stings Take me to the garden, our love I’ll repair

Clandestine meetings, your barb-wire heart

Here on your doorstep, its you with whom I dream Forgive me, let me to patch your broken wings

Will you allow us to have a fresh start?

So long to the sorrows your face used to seam Our reunion, as we exchange paper rings

Romina Alatorre - Class of 2023

An Ode to my Lover

Your dazzling haze of my dreams

Moving swiftly upon my sight

As my blushed cheeks gaze and your eyes gleam

Sweet sunshines and moonlit nights

Darling, your presence despite all my schemes

You appear entwined in kaleidoscopic lights

My lover, my life, my companion, my daydream

We stand now so tall, no more flight or fight

Going where you go, once again a team

I’ll save you a seat so our arms reunite

Art by: Anabella Bermudez

A Truth and a Lie

Based on Find A Way by T & Sugah x NCT ft. Cammie Robinson

There is a way out: truth I’m sure of it: lie I can win: truth It should be easy: lie

It can be overcome: truth I am unstoppable: lie In the end I’ll prevail: truth By doing the same thing I’ve always done: lie

I survived up to this moment: truth That makes me confident in my victory: lie

This won’t stop me: truth It won’t make me change: lie

I am stronger: true It’ll be over quickly: lie I’ll power through it: true And it won’t put up a fight: lie

I am strong: true I will win: true This will end: true And I’ll be stronger: true

Durante una Mirada - La Oreja de Van Gogh

I wonder what will kill me first My loyalty or my stubbornness I think it's my curse I continue my service

Maybe, forever was a word Meant for memories and Not people

Qué lentas que pasan las horas Que rápido pasan los años

Going through the motions Living day to day But then I catch your eye And we are both aware The past and present tower over A million words conveyed But none of them said Pero no hacemos nada y seguimos caminando Can't help remembering How it used to be We are unrecognizable Don't think there's enough room for three

Adam & Eve (Adan Y Eva)

I’m not tryna fall for their lies Those snake eyes be treacherous They pull you in with a beautiful guise Truly a doomed path, for me, too dangerous

I’m a daughter and a sister I’m too precious to get lost in the swirls From an Adan y Eva, “missed her” They say when I’m not out with the girls Self-preservation is wrong today, Adam’s foul admiration is more important Than Eve loving herself, never done until lord’s day Slithering whispers into her ears and blinding her eyes, the serpent Found his way into her heart and turned it into decay

I’m not tryna be her I’m sorry for her soul Yet I’m the silencer Call me a bore At least I’m going to be intact Not one bit of me tore apart

I’m too precious for to interact Don’t mind if I don’t react I’m just trying to survive Not tryna taste the apple Living past twenty-five Until I’m dressed in white at the chapel

Lonely Perfect Depths

She was a mermaid lost at sea She believed herself to be the only one But there were Thousands, Millions, Trillions just like her

But she believed she was the one Though she was simply lost In those lonely perfect depths

Egotistical I know

She just has a big lost ego In her eyes

And even she thought she was the one Let me remind you

There were Thousands Millions Trillions Just like her

The fairytale said that there are many fish, so never chase just one But she thought she was the one And she was proved wrong And as she cried the ocean She knew that she saw herself lost In the abyss of the waters

Self centered she looked But she was just lost Egotistical she seemed But she was just lost Blind she was And blind she drowned Con la soledad y el mar

Art by: Diego Miranda

Marie Schwarz -

WWW

Class of 2023

Where did it all start?

When did it all end?

Why did it all stop?

War Without Weapons

Fought it for a long time Losing and burning out What a war crime? Tired and I still went all-out

Without the beating passion

Is there a reason to continue?

Please have compassion Because there is still hope within you

Weapons are for the weak Yet I’m falling without a shield I can’t play forever hide and seek I just want to wield safety and be healed

Jarcha

O hermana, mi hombre fuerte quien tanto lo amaba Con su cabello bello, de su vida me hablaba Paseábamos por la calle, que a él le maravillaba Del castillo se escapó, ¿sería que no le alcanzaba?

Cántiga de Amigo

Flor, flor, su belleza y olor Me recuerda a un hombre con buen humor Como una flor, su cara brillaba con color

Ni rosa, ni dalia, el siempre fue superior Como una flor, su perfección no le dejaba cometer ni un error Siempre fue maravilloso como me llenaba de amor

Villancico

Cuando la nieve cae como algodón El invierno ya es la mejor diversión Fiestas navideñas con baile y canción

A la llegada de regalos, los niños gritaban Viendo sus sonrisas, sus padres les adoraban Invierno es una fiesta que todos amaban

Rhea Chugani - Class of 2026 Romance

Nadie me mira como tú me habías mirado Con tu cara preciosa y cabello dorado Una voz que me llenaba de alegría tan encantado Me hiciste sentir como había ganado

Cuando estabas callado trate de adivinar de que pensabas A veces no te encontraba, ¿adonde estabas? No creo que era mi amor que buscabas ¿Pregunto si en algún punto me amabas?

Art by: Isabella Rios

Jarcha

Mi corazón se va de mi Acaso Hassan volverá aquí? Ami, dime que haré Con esta tristeza que nunca sanaré Si Hassan no vuelve Toda mi vida sufriré

Cántiga de Amigo

Ay, vuelos de las rococas Montañas Has visto mi amigo, Jose Cologñas? Ay mi querido, que no he visto Donde estarás Jose, ayúdame Jesucristo

Te llevaron las olas? O tal ves el Conde de Montecristo? Tienes que regresar, porque sin ti no existo

Jarcha

Mi corazón no puede soportar El amor que tuve que abandonar Cuando tuve que despedir Mama, era el día que paré de amar

Cántiga de Amigo

Mi amado, mi corazón Adonde te fuiste, no tiene razón La doncella le pregunto al lago otra vez La última vez que lo vi, se dio un chapuzón Se metió en tu agua tan profunda, sí que es un cabezón Y lo único que dejo atrás, es su calzón

Villancico

En el pueblo todos celebran En este día las luces alumbran Cada rincón lleno de personas tomando champan Las personas felices bailaban La música convertiría El pueblo en esclavos que no se cansarían Hasta que las luces del día saldrían Y otra vez las personas trabajarían

Romance

El caballero empezó a cabalgar Se sentía bien porque gano una pelea, y quería celebrar Pero en ese entonces, vio algo que nunca podía imaginar Una doncella de pelo dorado, y unos ojos para memorizar Su cara como un sol, pero a ella si se podía mirar Hasta en un día lluvioso, solo sabia como brillar Inmediatamente, tome su mano y por un momento no podía hablar Su belleza me conmociono, y sus ojos me querían atrapar Bese su mano, y sabía que expresar Por ti yo haría lo que quieras, no importa cuantos hombres tengo que matar.

Moxaja

Abdul, mi amigo querido Eres un guerrero distinguido Que bueno es Allah que te he conocido Todos saben que estoy agradecido, mi amigo

Madre, cuanto necesito estar con el Sin Abdul, cualquier relación no pudiera ser fiel Mi vida nunca pudiera estar completa En fin, su amor es mi meta

Trovadoresca

Te daría cualquier cosa, mi reina Tienes que saber que tu amor me gobierna No importa que sea, hasta cortarme la pierna Tu mirada no tiene precio, mi amor, mi reina

Por ti, pelearía contra un oso No sé qué haría sin tus ojos La mujer de mis sueños, tan hermosa Nunca me podría imaginar una chica más amorosa

Cantigas de Amor

“María, todo lo que necesitas lo tengo yo” “Mi amor para ti es infinito,” aseguro Asómate por la ventana y escápate conmigo El mundo es mucho mas lindo afuera de tu castillo

Jarcha

Mi pasión, Mi ilusión eres tú mi amado habibi Por ti palpita mi corazón si no estás, moriré Oh Hermana, ¿dónde se fue? ¿ mi habibi me dejó, Por qué?

Cántiga de Amigo

Cielo estrellado Cielo estrellado

As visto a mi amigo? Vendra pronto? Cielo estrellado

As visto a mi amigo? vendrá pronto? aquel por quien yo espero? cielo estrellado as visto a mi amigo? vendra pronto? por el espero.

Lucas Alemán Rebecca Rabzcuk Nicolas Schiavi, Rhea Chugani, Mia Rodriguez - Class of 2026

Cantar d’ Gesta

Reúnanse gente, que hoy voy a contar como un gran héroe, de fue al altar Reúnanse reúnanse que van a disfrutar la caída de este don, para que puedan gozar

El buen principe, quien fuerte y apuesto era. De conquistas volvia, victorioso de la guerra. Por el bien del reino, ojalá que no se muera. esta es la historia, que nunca se entierra.

El dulce príncipe , con ideas de unión volvia Todas las mujeres preciosas, quienes lo querían Dos escogidas por el reino, llegaron con alegria Llego una fiel, y una sin simpatía.

Sus padres monarcas, orgullosos de su crianza Entre estas princesas, será un juego de adivinanza Cada princesa secretamente intentando crear una alianza Una de las princesas , recibiría una enseñanza

La princesa llena de envidia, veneno fue a agarrar Pero lo que ella no sabía, fue que el príncipe la iba observar El principe como lo bueno que es, el té con veneno empezó a tomar La princesa inocente sepuso a llorar, y más nunca lo volvió a mirar

Ambar Lara María José Gutierrez

Mauro Vergati, Nicholas Heilbrom, Javier Cerrud - Class of 2026

LA TRAICIÓN DEL AMOR

Acérquese pueblo escuchen esta historia Quedarán sorprendidos por mi increíble memoria

Un cuento sobre la traición y la gloria De un noble caballero y su linda novia

Gran Leon García noble con gran valentía Un héroe destacado nadie le ganaría

Fiel a su rey sus enemigos destruiría Conoció a una doncella que el amaría

En tres cortos meses esta doncella robó su corazón

Un amor puro e inocente lleno de pasión Pero pronto el corazón de los enamorados se llenó de tensión El pueblo descubre y observa esta terrible traición

El hermano de Leonel a la doncella sedujo

En una gala sobre lo que había en su vaso le mintió Con una gran migraña en un cuarto desconocido amaneció Todo es culpa de Isabel el hermano anunció

Leonel, el caballero invencible en esta batalla quedó herido Dicha la verdad eventualmente el verdadero culpable es reconocido Nuestro caballero venció a su hermano la muerte es su castigo Felizmente la pareja regresó a su estado de prometidos

Lee Luciana Calvosa Mónica Williams, Raquel Ardón , Leah Padmore - Class of 2026

Doble Traición

Una historia sobre un noble caballero Guzmán lo han de llamar, un héroe sincero Con lealtad va a triunfar y la aprobación de su escudero el dispuesto va a buscar EL Rey a Guzman llamó y una importante misión le dio Con valentía y honor, Guzmán su palabra brindó De su mujer tristemente se despidió Con esperanza y fe con un beso le dijo adiós Su trabajo fue a realizar Salió presto y rápido del solar Ese mismo día llegó a Zanzíbar Y sus hombres se lanzaron a atacar Peleó con el espíritu de cien Sus enemigos le decían tu morirás también. Te quitaremos tu victoria recién Pero al final a él le fue requete bien. Con victoria y honor a su reino regresó Con noticias de la misión a su rey buscó Al rey y a su amada, Guzmán encontró Su querida doncella, a Guzmán lo traicionó. Guzmán decidió invitar al Rey y a la doncella

Carlos

About Balboa Talks

Balboa Talks is a student-led club focused on helping students express themselves and make their voices heard. We aim to promote the humanities among the student body and we give students an avenue to share their experiences, reflections, opinions, research, etc. in a semi-formal setting.

Scales is our semesterly literary magazine. It showcases the work of our fellow Balboa students and includes poetry, fiction, essays, research papers in both English and Spanish as well as visual art.