ISSUE 1 • VOLUME 1 •MAY 2017
howl
THE COLOR OF
Culture I grew up in Canada, where there was a lot of Indians and Indian culture. It was so easy to get exposure to our culture and customs. But here in Vancouver, WA it’s much harder. This is why it’s so important for families to expose their kids to their own culture, language and community. I was lucky enough to have lived in Canada and go to school with people who spoke the same language and had the same background as me. It’s important to get diversity but it’s even more important to make sure you know who you are and where you come from. At home my family speaks Punjabi. We attend Indian functions, wear the traditional clothing and jewelry, go to the temple, and eat traditional foods.
THE COLOR OF
Culture My younger siblings were never completely surrounded by our Indian community like I was. They barely know how to speak Punjabi, let alone understand it thoroughly. And this is hard to understand considering they grew up with parents who speak to them in Punjabi. Because of this, they don’t fully enjoy spending time with their grandparents due to the communication barrier between them. It breaks my heart that they didn’t get the exposure I got having gone to school in Vancouver WA. When I was younger, many kids were narrow-minded towards my race, culture, language, and because of that I never appreciated my background, I didn’t like who I was. I wanted to be like the other students.
THE COLOR OF
Culture Now that I’m older I have learned to embrace myself and my culture. I’m not afraid to be who I am. I’m proud that I have a different culture. I can speak a foreign language. I have different customs and ways of doing things compared to most people at my school. When our family first moved to America, we used to watch Bollywood movies all the time, and we would watch Hindi shows, listen to Hindi songs and go to lots of Indian parties. We rarely spoke English. But the longer we stayed here, the more we drifted from our background. We never watched Bollywood movies anymore, rarely listened to the music and only sometimes did we go to parties and see our community.
THE COLOR OF
Culture We still speak Punjabi in our house, since it’s my parents’ first language, but not as much as we used to. Its crazy how much can change the more separated you are from your community. I’ve noticed that the smaller the community is, the harder it is to keep in touch with your cultural side. Culture and background make you who you are. It’s a huge part of your life and what shapes you to be the person you are. It’s vital to embrace who you are and where you come from. Your culture can give you a connection to different types of social values, beliefs, religions, customs and unity. You know why you may think or believe in certain things, or why you have moral values that may be different than others.
THE COLOR OF
Culture Your culture gives you an understanding on why your family has different customs or may do things much different than other families. Culture influences your life, your moral values, views, desires, and fears. Culture provides an easy way to relate to others who share the same mindset and values you do. Society cannot function without culture. Culture is a beautiful thing that can bring so many different people together. It’s so intriguing seeing different cultures and people and how different they can be from my own. Because my culture made me, I live in a colorful world. Words and Images by Emma Kang
Photo by : Kevin Jones
DEEANNA MEIER
search party Remember that day you decided to become a
Every time I drive on that road I have to hold
headline?
my breath
It's been over a month now,
Like little kids do when they go over bridges.
And I'm still waiting for you to knock a book
Every time I drive on that road
off of my shelf.
I swear the static in the radio gets a little
I'm still waiting for the punchline of the joke to
heavier.
come,
We always joked about writing eulogies for
Where we're both okay.
each other.
Until now,
You were never completely convinced
I never thought that just one person could be a
you would ever actually die.
search party.
JULIA BAKH
straight ahead This bridge, quaint and weather worn, lends its majestic and prepossessing wonder To the other side, not being dared to step. Horizontal winds forcing its strength, east to west. Hidden secrets beneath the bridge, spread like a plague. Every teen that gave their soul, gave their memory to this bridge, has fallen short. A memory created for their future, crafted by this majestic creation, this bridge sculptured it all. Men and women who passed the grounds of this collapsing bridge, Never manifested to open their senseless eyes, To see a woman collapse short from her hopeless life.
Photo by : Kevin Jones
JULIA BAKH
straight ahead (cont.) With depraved thoughts she fought destructive voices, stripped her conscience to pieces. Gazed at rushing waters, in need of healing power. Echos of flecked birds through the forest sing behind and before. Invasive moss surrounds the other side of the bridge, where textures of mist whisper to the ear. One day she will surround herself in graceful hope: Where birds fly with integrity and happiness, Never to be compared to the side she is trapped on. The melody of streams clash into one another, Shapes the woman. Calms her soul  while she sits and wonders straight ahead, with no movement at all.Â
Photo by : Kevin Jones
Photo by : Diana Kutsenko
SUMMER ROBBINS
wander My mother asks what’s happened to the light in my eyes and the smile on my face. I say check the lost and found Except I’m not exactly sure I want to be found. Because I know that what is discovered, will be highly disappointing to us all. I took the wrong turn miles behind and do not seem to have the energy to reroute. I’m not exactly heading towards a new destination either it seems. So mother I beg of you, do not bother putting up flyers around my town of my lifeless face, offering a reward for whoever finds me Let me wander into the clouds where nothing else matters. Because I promise you will not find me.
Photo by : Diana Kutsenko
TAILOR KARREN
orange Every moment is special This one, Because it isn't about us or Me It is about the beauty of the things around us: The fog, The sunrise, And you, the love for everything around us. Everything that hurts, Everything cold. Everything beautiful, everything soft, everything warm Everything about our time Together. I let you have the front seat, Because I know you appreciate it more Memorizing the lines on every mountain, The shapes of all the leaves. Your fixation on everything, Complex
But skipping over the fact that the most complex Is you: Your brain sending a million signals a second, You, Learning and loving. You held me above everything And I did the same for you. Your potential is tremendous. The way you felt against my skin And in my mind. Mentally stimulating In this world, Continuously beautiful and ever changing. Always learning and an instant connection. You saved me and in this moment, Sweetheart. Everything was picture perfect, You were you, And you were everything to me.
Photo Kevin Jones
-YOHAN CHOI
l'heure bleue Running,
She gazes up at the deep blue sky,
Tears streaming down her delicate cheeks,
The depth of space above, is unparalleled,
Attempting to set free the burdens of life and
Staring into its magnificence.
reality.
Makes her world seem so insignificant and small.
The sly wind whips the branches back and forth,
The awe-inspiring splendor reaches out to her,
Scratching her soft skin.
But she is paralyzed.
Muddy footprints are her only accompaniment. “Through it all, you are loved” Blinded by her woes,
His words awaken her spirit.
She stumbles upon a clearing,
His breath amends her soul.
Where tall grass neatly lines the ground like
She is astonished at how such a celestial being
exotic carpets,
Can possess the most warm and gentle voice she
And where the shadows of the sinister trees are
has heard in her life.
gone. The place is foreign She has never been here before. But yet, there is an indescribable familiarity in the aroma, She feels right at home. A home she has never had.
Photo Kevin Jones
-YOHAN CHOI
l'heure bleue (cont.) Tear drops fall to the ground.
But skipping over the fact that the most complex
Gravity pulls them down
Is you,
She is still crying.
Your brain sending a million signals a second
Yet, she does not understand why,
Learning and loving.
Her wet cheeks are unexplained,
You held me above everything,
Just as the heavens unfolding above her.
And I did the same for you.
The tears can only be described as products
Your potential is tremendous
Of unfathomable beauty.
The way you felt against my skin And in my mind
She jumps back into the world
Mentally stimulating
With more confidence than ever,
In this world
She paces back into the murky woods.
Continuously beautiful and ever changing Always learning and an instant connection
Many argue about when the skies hold the most
You saved me and in this moment
brilliance.
Sweetheart
They claim a sunrise, for its burning red passion.
Everything was picture perfect
They believe in a starry night, because of its
You were you
breath taking beauty.
And you were everything to me.
But she knows, L’heure Bleue, the Blue Hour The most beautiful but yet intimate sight.
Bedtime
INTOÂ THE DARK PORTRAITS BY DIANA KUTSENKO