Emotions
Pegasus 2020 Literature and art magazine
PEGASUS 2020 Literature and Art Magazine
Yeshivah of Flatbush Joel Braverman High School Al and Sonny Gindi Campus 1609 Avenue J, Brooklyn, NY 11230 www.flatbush.org
Pegasus 2020 | Emotions
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Music Moods | Sonya Bakst
Acrylic and marker on vinyl record
Rabbi Dr. Raymond Harari Head of School
Rabbi Joseph Beyda Principal
Sari Bacon Associate Principal
Esther Hidary Assistant Principal / Director of Admissions
Rabbi David Galpert Assistant Administrator
Mr. Abie J. Hidary President
Rabbi Dr. David Eliach Principal Emeritus
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Jaclyn Pahuskin English Faculty / Pegasus Advisor
Jason Novetsky Arts Faculty
Carolina Cohen Arts Faculty / Design
Mica Bloom English Department Chairperson
Pegasus 2020 | Emotions
TABLE OF CONTENTS
HAPPINESS Writing 3 Heaven / Sarina Shalom / Poetry 7 The Young Heroine / Raquel Silvera 9 Macaulay Essay / Grace Kehzrie / Essay 11 Our Purpose / Arlette Anteby / Poetry 13 The Aftermath of Catching Feelings / Rose Fuchs / Poetry 15 Ode to Winning / David Shalam / Poetry 15 There is Another Escape / Andree Kraiem / Poetry 17 Dreams / Yvonne Tobias / Poetry 19 A New World / Linda Gindi / Poetry 19 Dear Eyes / Robin Cohen / Poetry 23 Living / Esty Vizgian / Poetry 24 I Believe in Growing Pains / Natalie Ryba / Poetry 27 Identity / Arlette Mann / Poetry 29 Because I Could Not Speak to Books / Michelle Belenkiy / Poetry 30 Life in Other Words / Priscilla Baranoff / Poetry 35 The Truth to Reputation / Rose Fuchs / Poetry 37 Magenta / Sally Jaradeh / Poetry 41 The Day I Changed / Sarah Vidal / Poetry 43 One Woman / Sarah Dagmy 46 Where the Sidewalking Ends / Kaden Harari / Essay Art 2 Swinging Beauty / Evelyn Tawil 4 ABC’s - Album Cover / Aimee Cohen 5 Happiness / Hannah Zonana 6 Streaks of Serenity / Shelley Shamah 8 Art Basel Ready / Simone Dweck 10 Tripping / Sonya Bakst 12 Yolo - Album Cover / Ruthie Khaski 14 The Viewer / Shelley Shamah 14 Family Time / Judith Levy 16 Everything is Yellow / Sonya Bakst 18 Rise / Norma Hizami 20 Perspective! / Sophie Bailey 21 Sunset / Orly Yazdi 22 Let Loose / Sonya Bakst 26 Aurora / Betty Hidary 28 Cataloging Expressions / Sonya Bakst 32 Mommy’s Closet / Shelley Shamah 33 Ballgame / Shelley Shamah
34 36 38 39 40 42 44 45
Life Color / Rachel Skaba When I Dance / Evelyn Tawil The one who went to the market / Jayne Haddad Passion / Shelley Shamah Confidence / Rachel Skaba Relief / Shelley Shamah A Sip / Orly Yazdi Opportunity / Eve Shalom
SADNESS Writing 51 Regret / Joshua Romano / Poetry 53 Perspectives / Lydia Ezon / Poetry 53 The Storm / Allison Heskiel / Poetry 55 Flat Like a Pancake / Natalie Ryba / Poetry 57 The Beast / Ginger Ammar / Poetry 57 Is God There? / Shlomie Katash / Poetry 61 “The Letter I Never Got to Write” by Amir / Raquel Silvera / Poetry 63 The Sacrifice of Success / Aidan Herzlinger / Poetry 63 Someone Like You / Sarah Sedaka / Poetry 66 The Art of Appropriation / Shelley Shamah / Essay 71 Divine Outreach / David Shalam / Poetry 75 Taken / Suzanne Mosseri / Poetry 77 Dear Feelings / Ralph Askenazi / Poetry 81 Loneliness / Shelly Zebak / Poetry 83 Memories of Men / Rose Sternberg / Poetry 87 The Stains Left Behind / Hymie Gindi / Poetry 89 Dear Summer / Evelyn Lincer / Poetry 91 Breakups / Rose Fuchs / Poetry 94 “No Longer Gone” by Mabel / Danielle Mehani / Poetry 98 Dreams Through the Years / Robyn Beyda / Poetry 50 52 54
Art Road to Recovery / Gabrielle Weinwurzel Black and White and Blue All Over / Danielle Reichman Spilling / Shelley Shamah
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56 Wave of Debt / Lynn Pichotto 58 Lifeline / Jennifer Salzman 59 Crevices / Shelley Shamah 60 Reality / Jeanne Cohen 62 Broken Scars / Jayne Haddad 64 Alone in a Crowd / Danielle Reichman 65 Stargazing / SImone Dweck 68 Shadows / Danielle Reichman 69 What Happened? / Shelley Shamah 70 Under the Surface / Mattan Jackier 72 Obsession / OrDavid Menashe 73 Too Late / Sarah Dagmy 74 Rise Again / Max Shalom 76 Cry - Album Cover / Amber Betesh 78 Climate Change / Abigail Tuachi 79 Glaciers / Solomon Nussbaum 80 Man in Despair / Yvette Dana 82 Faith / Vivian Hamui 84 Lost - Album Cover / Shelly Matsas 85 I Am Fine / Jeanne Cohen 86 Rainy Kisses / Jayne Haddad 88 Game Point / Betty Hidary 88 Leaving Behind / Shelley Shamah 90 Faking it / Jeanne Cohen 92 Modern Loneliness / Gabrielle Weinwurzel 93 Never Forgotten / Betty Hidary 96 A Thousand Storms - Album Cover / Sivan Garber 97 Then and Now / Sarah Richter
ANGER 103 106 112 118 125
Writing Emotions / Talya Shamoelian / Poetry The System is Whack / Lillian Louz / Poetry Just Like The Ocean / Ralph Askenazi / Poetry Letter to Hitler / Danielle Dweck / Poetry Eternal Brotherhood / Nathan Sidaoui / Poetry
Art 102 Two Faced / Leora Elnatanov 104 Shook / Amanda Zeitoune
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105 108 109 110 111 114 115 116 117 120 121 122 123 124
No Anger / Joyce Louz New Doors / Esther Alhakim Dinero - Album Cover / Lillian Haddad Acid Eyes / Jayne Haddad Crime scene / Isabella Tuachi Mr. Chillingworth / Jayne Haddad Pray for the Fallen - Album Cover / Morris Madeb Constant Themes in Architecture / Max Shalom Veins / Jayne Haddad Endurance / Marc Lessler The Waiting Game / Shelley Shamah Blinded / Jeanne Cohen Seeing Red / Jeanne Cohen The Future - Album Cover / Noyah Shebshaievitz
FEAR Writing 129 Day Becoming Night / David Shalam / Poetry 131 From The Eyes Of A Survivor / Rose Fuchs / Poetry 134 Persecution to Liberation / Esther Mizrachi / Essay 141 Capital Punishment / Jayne Haddad / Poetry 143 Dear Anxiety / Rebecca Mann / Poetry 147 Fear / Ninette Setton / Poetry 150 Starting Anew / Ralph Askenazi / Essay 155 Fate / Jem Hanan / Poetry 157 Middle Of The Night / Ralph Askenazi / Poetry 161 The Smiling Girls / Gabriel Levi / Poetry 164 Five Strangers / Noyah Shebshaievitz / Essay 170 The Flight / Ruthie Khaski / Essay Art 128 Covid 19 / Marylin Shasho 130 Unconventional Dancing / Simone Dweck 132 Determined to Conquer / Danielle Reichman 133 Teddy / Edward Hamway 138 Collision / Mickey Shamah 139 We Can Do It / Carole Cohen 140 Pushing Through / Yvette Dana 140 Camera Shy / Sonya Bakst
142 143 144 146 147 148 150 151 156 158 160 161 162 164 165 170 171 174 175
A New Frame / Grace Madeb Eye Stop / Virginia Oved Overflow / Danielle Reichman Inside and Out / Sonya Bakst So Lost / Sarah Dagmy Confidence Pops / Carole Cohen Gang Gang / Betty Hidary SBP- Album Cover / Ruthie Derzie Sky City / Abigail Tuachi Introverted / Hannah Lazerowitz Memories / Estelle Setton Contrast / Shelley Shamah Standing Guard / Shelley Shamah Chesed / Marsha Zakay Light Creation I / Sonya Bakst I Saw It On The News / Sarah Dagmy Crushing Fear / Carole Cohen Anu Nenatzeach / Betty Hidary Optics / Shelley Shamah
186 Missing out / Rachel Sanders 187 Eye_m Broken / Virginia Oved 188 Swinging in Color / Evelyn Tawil 190 Spots of Love / Rochelle Hafif 192 Butterflies in my Stomach / Sonya Bakst 194 Sister / Shelley Shamah 195 Brother / Shelley Shamah 198 Together / Amanda Zeitoune 199 Planet of Love / Sarita Esses 200 Sisters / Shelley Shamah 202 Carpe Diem / Grace Betesh 204 The Sunset’s Journey - Album Cover / Marcelle Setton 205 Lights Aligning / Amanda Zeitoune 208 Valuable / Frances Oved 209 Generations / Betty Hidary 210 Lyrical / Shelley Shamah 212 The Whole Thing Together / Shelley Shamah 214 Moody Emotions / Gaby Weinwurzel
LOVE Writing 179 It’s Easy to Forget / Shira Simchon / Poetry 181 The Past is Comfort / Jonathan Shetrit / Poetry 183 Nature of the World / Alan Shamah / Poetry 185 Together in the Shadows / Joseph Esquenazi / Poetry 189 Dedication / Yahel Sabtaniy / Poetry 191 The Plot of a Relationship / Rose Fuchs / Poetry 193 Flowers / Shelly Zebak / Poetry 196 A New Reality / Stephanie Tarrab / Poetry 201 Daydreams / Jem Hanan / Poetry 203 Desire / Natalie Ryba / Poetry 206 Subway Car / Sarina Shalom / Essay 211 A Rainy Day in Israel / Lucy Allaham / Poetry 211 Terza Rima /Rochelle Hafif / Poetry 213 Memories / Hanna Mishan / Poetry Art 178 Communication / Betty Hidary 180 Cold as Ice / Lillian Haddad 182 Movement / Sonya Bakst 184 Door to the Soul / Hannah Lazerowitz
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Moody | Gabrielle Weinwurzel Nikon D3500, Photoshop
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Pegasus 2020 | Emotions
Emotions | Explanation of Theme Emotions are a complex aspect of our lives. They are an abstract concept, but still depict the image of a person. They are actions and reactions. They are attributes, behaviors, and inspirations that sometimes come and go so quickly, we don’t even have time to process them. But sometimes they sit and linger in our bodies, affecting our entire outlook on our surroundings, life, and ourselves. Often times we look back on our lives and the lives of others in a sequence of events. But it’s not just the sequence of events. What energy was infused into that event? Was it grief, surprise, affection? Not only do the emotions accompany everything we do, they are the cause of everything we do. Our emotions tell us when to smile, cry, dance. Happiness will tell you to throw a party, nervousness will tell you to bite your nails, annoyance will tell you to roll your eyes. Our emotions create our lives. Maya Angelou once said, “People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Feelings have no physical being, you can’t see excitement, you can’t hear loneliness, you can’t touch rage or pride or love. Emotions take their form in human beings, which is why it’s so hard to forget a feeling. Only you can feel that excitement, that rage, that love. Emotions are so personal and customized to the being it takes its form in that they are nearly impossible to forget. All of our individual emotions combined form us, human beings, forces of nature. Our emotions complete us. They help us to see things when we look at them, understand what we hear, and feel what we touch. What looks profound to one person may seem basic to another simply because of what each person is feeling. Our emotions that make up our lives, our bodies, our souls, guide us to making decisions and carrying out our lives. They are the essence of what it means to be a human being. We can be bitter and ecstatic because we are human and vice versa. Our emotions allow us to be beautiful, real, and genuine in existence.
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Swatches | Solomon Nussbaum Acrylic paint
Philosophy of Publication/Colophon Jaclyn Pahuskin Pegasus is a magazine that represents the literary and artistic talent of our students at the Yeshivah of Flatbush. Writers, philosophers, dreamers, painters, photographers, idealists, leaders, sculptors, poets, readers and designers walk through our hallways every single day. This publication celebrates the diversity, beauty and talent that our students possess. The pubication submission policy is open to all students from 9th through 12th grade. The editors select which writing pieces are published through an analysis of the originality, creativity, purpose, appeal and connection to theme. Additionally, editors also select which art pieces are published based on the composition, contrast, techinque, visual aesthetics, as well as the connection to the theme. Work is accepted all year long and students are highly encouraged to submit to Pegasus@flatbush.org weekly. Faculty and community members are encouraged to submit work, but there is a limit on how many pieces we select for the publication. Literary editors are told to edit work for gramatical and punctuation errors and not to alter the content of the piece. Pegasus 2020 was created using Adobe InDesign CC 2020. The font family used was Avenir. This is a school funded publication. There was a virtual book distributed to the contributors and their families, the high school Administration, English and Arts Departments, the school library, the Executive office of the Yeshivah and lay leaders. Thank you to all the contributors this year. To participate in next year’s publication, please email Pegasus@flatbush.org or see Ms. Pahuskin in room 202, Ms. Cohen in room 205 or Mr. Novetsky in the Art Room to get involved.
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CONTRIBUTORS Natalie Ryba Yahel Sabtaniy Sarah Sedaka Ninette Setton David Shalam Sarina Shalom Alan Shamah Shelley Shamah Talya Shamoelian Noyah Shebshaievitz Jonathan Shetrit Nathan Sidaoui Raquel Silvera Shira Simchon Rose Sternberg Stephanie Tarrab Yvonne Tobias Sarah Vidal Esty Vizgan Shelly Zebak
Esther Alhakim Sophie Bailey Sonya Bakst Amber Betesh Grace Betesh Aimee Cohen Carole Cohen Jeanne Cohen Sarah Dagmy Yvette Dana Ruthie Derzie Simone Dweck Leora Elnatanov Sarita Esses Sivan Garber Jayne Haddad Lillian Haddad Rochelle Hafif Vivian Hamui Edward Hamway Betty Hidary Norma Hizami Mattan Jackier Ruth Khaski Hannah Lazerowitz Marc Lessler Judith Levy Joyce Louz Grace Madeb Morris Madeb Shelly Matsas OrDavid Menashe Solomon Nussbaum Frances Oved Virginia Oved
Lynn Pichotto Danielle Reichman Sarah Richter Jennifer Salzman Rachel Sanders Estelle Setton Marcelle Setton Eve Shalom Max Shalom Mickey Shamah Shelley Shamah Marylin Shasho Noyah Shebshaievitz Rachel Skaba Evelyn Tawil Abigail Tuachi Isabella Tuachi Orly Yazdi Gabrielle Weinwurzel Marsha Zakay Hannah Zonana Amanda Zeitoune
ARTISTS
Lucy Allaham Ginger Ammar Arlette Anteby Ralph Askenazi Priscilla Baranoff Michelle Belenkiy Robyn Beyda Robin Cohen Sarah Dagmy Danielle Dweck Joseph Esquenazi Lydia Ezon Rose Fuchs Hymie Gindi Linda Gindi Jayne Haddad Rochelle Hafif Jem Hanan Kaden Harari Aidan Herzlinger Allison Heskiel Sally Jaradeh Shlomie Katash Grace Kehzrie Ruthie Khaski Andree Kraiem Gabriel Levi Evelyn Lincer Lillian Louz Arlette Mann Rebecca Mann Danielle Mehani Hanna Mishan Esther Mizrachi Suzanne Mosseri Joshua Romano
EDITORS WRITERS
Sonya Bakst Sarah Dagmy Shelley Shamah Rose Sternberg Stephanie Tarrab
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HAPPINESS
Pegasus 2020 | Happiness
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Swinging Beauty | Evelyn Tawil iPhone
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Heaven
Sarina Shalom From the perspective of Heathcliff An open sky awaits me You have given me a rebirth I am now well and ready Take me in with open arms Oh lord I must say Thank you for this clarity Your guidance is all I needed No one I shall leave behind I have been through hell But how good it feels to have returned The blaze has left my soul And I will never visit again
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ABC’s - Album Cover | Aimee Cohen
iPhone, Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Happiness | Hanna Zonana
Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Streaks of Serenity | Shelley Shamah Canon Rebel
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The Young Heroine Raquel Silvera
What happens to a woman who loses everything but comes out of it a success; how does she live her life? While there were many times when I wanted to cry for Fiona Finnegan, from The Tea Rose by Jennifer Donnelly, and her hardships, I found myself cheering her on as she fought them off. In a short amount of time she saw far more loss than anyone could ever carry on their own and had a younger brother to care for and protect. And all of this rained down on her at the ripe age of 17, so if there’s a woman whose youthful passion and drive I can relate to and whose bravery I admire, and could only ever dream to mimic, it would be Fiona. We would talk about love and the ways in which it was the glue that held her in one fragmented piece. I would ask her about how hard it must have been to swallow her grief alone and so young with so much responsibility looming over her head. We would delve into what she told herself every morning when she awoke choking back whole storms of sobs. And I would listen attentively as she explained how in the early 1900s, with a dreary past, she became a successful businesswoman in a foreign country without a dollar to her name. And all that while being a young female who would in most cases be mocked for dreaming as big as she did.
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Art Basel Ready | Simone Dweck
Watercolor Pens
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Macauly Essay Grace Kehzrie
I am the youngest child of four girls. On the surface, we seem very similar. We constantly use our hands while we speak, and we sit with our legs twisted into a pretzel on any chair, couch, or bench. As much as our external appearances are alike, our personalities differ. Linda is the classic oldest child. She does well in school, plays by the rules, and keeps her room neat. She has always been my second mom, making sure I did my homework and came home on time. Sarah is personable and outgoing. She can start a conversation with anyone, and everyone grows to love her. Ricki is creative and unapologetic. She can take an empty soda can and turn it into something entirely new. She uses her art to express her opinions and isn’t afraid to tell you if she does not like what you are wearing. I spent my entire childhood trying to live up to my sisters’ standards. For a long time, I lacked confidence because I felt so much pressure to be as perfect as I thought they were. I was so focused on trying to impress my older sisters, trying to be my older sisters, that I didn’t allow myself to discover who I really was. It was only as my maturity and confidence grew that I accepted who I am and what role I play. I used to think that being the youngest put me at a disadvantage, but I have slowly begun to realize how much it contributes to my identity. Growing up with three loud and opinionated older sisters pushed me into the shadows. They were constantly competing for my parents’ attention, so I grew content simply watching and listening. With time, I developed a keen sense of observation and well-balanced, independent views of the world. As the youngest, I was exposed to many things at an early age which enabled me to become emotionally mature and insightful. At every family meal I heard discussions about pop culture, current events, and social pressures. My witty sense of sarcastic humor evolved from years of verbal sparring; brothers fight with punches and kicks, but sisters fight with words and wit. Once I took charge of my own identity, I was able to leverage my sisters’ best qualities to enhance my own. Linda teaches me how to be organized-to keep my physical and mental space neat and orderly. Sarah pushes me socially by giving me all the tools to feel confident in the spotlight. Ricki helps me channel creativity and teaches me to question the norm. I am proud to be a product of my sisters, but I am grateful of the genuine, passionate, and intelligent individual I have grown to become.
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Tripping | Sonya Bakst
Gouache and acrylic on canvas
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Our Purpose
Arlette Anteby As the light emerges from the horizon, life and all of its functions begin. Birds begin to chirp, fresh dew settles into the grass, alarm clocks sound. We spend our time consumed by our day to day responsibilities; after each and every day the sun sets behind the horizon and thick darkness fills the sky. But what if the sun didn’t rise in the morning ? And what if the sun didn’t set in the evening ? What if. Our lives would be set on a different axis-Who would we turn to to seek help? What would we do? The sun is a force greater than we can imagine. Not to be reckoned with, at any cost. Because without it We are worshipers with no god, Teachers with no students, Bosses with no employees, People with no purpose.
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Yolo - Album Cover | Ruthie Khaski
iPhone, Resourced Images, Photoshop
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The Aftermath of Catching Feelings Rose Fuchs
Dear feelings, You shut people down, Wake them up, Start wars, End happiness, And ruin lives. But you also create love, End depression, And make life better. Feelings, You saved me from times of hardships, Changed my life, To the life I dreamed of living, Now I am enjoying these moments, Thanks to you, Feelings.
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The Viewer | Shelley Shamah
Acrylic Paint
Family Time | Judith Levy Canon Rebel T3
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Ode to Winning David Shalam
How do I grasp you, everyone wants you, but only one can achieve you. At the end of the day, I consistently earn triumph. The feeling of the adrenaline Pumping, into your bloodstream. hearing your heart, Beating. Grasping the intangible, Victory.
There is Another Escape Andree Kraiem
There is another future, Ever loose and unconfined, And there is more hope, Though it be frightening here; Nevermind the dark prison, brother, Never mind solemn bars Here is a door, Whose key is in my hand Here is the hope of a brighter beginning Where our sins are not remembered Through the thick metal door, I hear friendly voices, Brother, keep your faith, For our final escape is near!
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Everything is Yellow | Sonya Bakst
Acrylic and marker on paper
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Dreams
Yvonne Tobias Sometimes I think my head is so big Because it is so full of dreams I walk through life hopeful Pushing away the pain A dream is more than a goal It lets me focus on the future And not the scars of the past Once fulfilled I will be complete My head will grow smaller With the here and the now And not the what will be
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Rise | Norma Hizami
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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A New World Linda Gindi
I was warned that Things are going to be different But I didn’t realize how different It feels like I didn’t just move to a new town But to a new world It’s like birds can swim and fish can fly It’s going to be difficult but Transforming impossible to possible Is the only way through
Dear Eyes,
Robin Cohen I remember so clearly My first trip to the park, The strokes of yellow in the beautiful oak trees And the colorful children swinging on the swings The bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds I felt like I had it all, thanks to you I remember so clearly My first trip to the ice skating rink, The sharp cuts in the ice from the blades And the dazzling lights hung all around The brown hot cocoa, we drank after It burnt the roof of my mouth, but I didn’t care
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Perspective! | Sophie Bailey Collage
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Sunset | Orly Yazdi
Acrylic paint on canvas
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Let Loose | Sonya Bakst Canon Rebel T6
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Living
Esty Vizgan (a villanelle) as Helen Burns for Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte This is a villanelle written by Helen Burns
True happiness is coming I’ll see the angels at the gate Through heaven I’ll be running The other cheek I keep turning There’s no need to debate True happiness is coming My parents I’ll be seeing In just a little bit of a wait Through heaven I’ll be running I find it hard to keep living But my head I’ll keep straight True happiness is coming My heart is aching But in soon enough a date Through heaven I’ll be running My health is deteriorating I’m reaching my fate True happiness is coming Through heaven I’ll be running
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I Believe in Growing Pains Natalie Ryba
In our early childhood, our needs and well being, if we’re lucky, are someone else’s responsibility. Clean clothes, a roof over our heads, food, love, joy, are all meant to be taken care of by someone else. Over time, we grow. Our eyes expand as do our minds. We have experiences and learn about our emotions which helps form our identity. The teenage years are famous for presenting adolescents with existential questions. One of them being: What makes YOU happy? After being pulled out of class, I was crying in my guidance counselor’s office on a Tuesday afternoon in June of Freshmen year. Crying so hard, as if my life was over. In some ways it was. That part of my life died. It had to die someday. But that day, it ended rather abruptly and rendered me grief stricken. What does this fragile, spineless, practically-eighth-grader-but-really-ninth-grader do when friendships go wrong? I didn’t know why it ended then and I don’t know now. It’s irrelevant why, but all that matters is that it ended. Though the friendship was important to me, it wasn’t entirely why I was wailing with pain. When I was friends with these people, I believed certain things to be true about this world and society. The instant that friendship ended, all I knew to be true completely fell apart. I didn’t know what to believe or feel. Most importantly, I didn’t know how to be happy. My guidance counselor asked, “Natalie, what makes YOU happy?” I started to give it thought. What makes me happy? Up until that point, I never thought about why I get out of bed every morning. For that whole summer, I was lifeless. I couldn’t feel anything, I couldn’t carry a conversation, I couldn’t read without getting a headache. Nothing brought a smile to my face besides for my campers. My campers were two year-olds, the most beautiful creatures on the earth. Smiles so precious and personalities to match. From these barely potty-trained, chubby, half-English-half-gibberish-speaking things, I found wisdom. I felt so fulfilled holding them, wiping their tears, making them laugh, I learned from them that it is my job to give my life meaning. Only I can know what speaks to me.
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
In the beginning of Sophomore year, terrified of what the unknown will bring, I lifted my head and recognized those who love me and value my presence. My friends in other classes cared about me so much and were there for me the whole time. I am eternally grateful for them and the fact that they held my hand through it all. With the solid foundation of love and warmth, I discovered my passions: All kinds of music, books, history, movies, discussions, being outdoors, volunteering. I started my own newsletter, which made its way into the school paper. I joined the school play with disabled adults, started attending the high school Minyan on Saturday mornings, and got a Sunday job to spend more time with children. My life is profoundly different from what it was a year and a half ago and I couldn’t be happier. Everyone has a story and it is our job to learn from our experiences and ask ourselves what ties us to this earth and makes us soar. It takes time and thought, but will have an immense impact on how we live our lives. There is light at the end of the tunnel and only each individual can find out what that light is.
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This is Nuts! Rafi Nemet
Canon Rebel
Aurora | Betty Hidary iPhone
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Identity
Arlette Mann Let them be orange Who represents excitement and vividness, but is sometimes too overwhelming I’d rather be the opposite. Blue like the ocean. To have calmness, to relax and soothe myself and others. To be laid back and live life in the moment. I’d rather have depth, and have a sense of curiosity of what’s beneath the surface, then to be shallow, where I am recognized by everyone and everything. To be predictable. I’d rather be soothing than cause chaos. If I could cause relief and serenity, I’d rather be the color blue.
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Cataloging Expressions | Sonya Bakst
Canon Rebel T6, Photoshop
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Because I Could Not Speak to Books
Michelle Belenkiy
Because I could not speak to booksThey kindly spoke to meThe books held but just my mindAnd infinity. We slowly strode- We took our time And I had stored away My ideas and beliefs too, For my imaginationWe passed a world, where magic grew At schools- in the libraryWe passed the places of mighty battlesWe passed the oceans tooOr instead- words passed usThe ideas bloomed and blossomedFor there within my mind, vivid thoughtsThe books- filled with colorThey create a binding spell All clearly visibleA praise to one and allA statue-in the publicSince then- I’ve learned- about the world The ideas I perused remain Forever within my mind Perpetually growing-
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Life in Other Words Priscilla Baranoff
Do you ever stop to think about what it really means to be living? The actual definition of life is the condition that distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter, including the capacity for growth, reproduction, functional activity, and continual change preceding death. However, to me, life means something totally different. Life is a gift that God gave us in order to fulfill a mission or goal with our time in this world. Sometimes I wonder, “Why am I really here on Earth? What is my purpose?” And then, I take a step back and I think to myself, “What can I do to make this world a better place and how can I achieve greatness within myself?” All of these questions come about when I think of the word “life.” Life isn’t just being alive and breathing. It isn’t only what distinguishes animals and plants from inorganic matter; rather, it is something that makes human beings unique. Each person was given life in this world to contribute to society and to the world around you to make it a better place. We all have a goal and a purpose that can be fulfilled throughout our lifetime. For example, think of doctors, teachers, scientists, and rabbis. All of these professions are just a small portion of the bigger picture. Each person within these professions share their knowledge with others and dedicate themselves for the betterment of society as a whole. Without them, our lives wouldn’t be the same because we need every person in order to run the world. The world is what it is because of us. This is exactly what life is about. Life is something that has been around since the creation of the world billions of years ago. When God created it, He had in mind that everyone together will better the world. Over the years, the development of the world has changed immensely due to everyone’s contributions and dedication. Life is about giving and sharing with other people something that you have to offer. It can be something that we may not think is so significant, but in reality, it has a huge impact. The variety within the world makes each person so different from one another that no two people are the same. Everyone has their own special traits that make them unique and it’s our job to contribute something to the world.
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Without each person and all of the diversity from within, you lose the essence and meaning of life. Whether young or old, sick or healthy, short or tall, fat or skinny, each individual offers something for us to learn and take away. For example, I once watched American Idol and I saw a disabled man singing so beautifully that it totally blew away the audience. No one would expect that this handicapped person would actually be able to win but he did. And, this young man served as an inspiration to other disabled people as well, which he probably didn’t even realize. The term life has such a broader definition than just the simple meaning in a dictionary. Life is about making use of yourself and your time so that you could work on becoming a better version of yourself and change your community around you. You should live your life as if every day is your last. Every person has the privilege of being able to accomplish a goal in life. Whether we see it or not, God has allowed each and every person that is born into this world the chance to live and attain their dreams. For some people, they’re able to feel this sense of accomplishment very early on in life, and for others, it takes their whole lifetime to finally realize why they were placed in this world to begin with. If you reflect and really think about it, life is what you make of it. You can choose to be kind or mean. You can choose to be a giver or a taker. You can choose to be a doctor or a lawyer. You can choose to do something that is worthwhile and gives you satisfaction or to do nothing and waste your time. At the end of the day, it’s all up to you. How do you choose to live your life?
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Mommy’s Closet | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Ballgame | Shelley Shamah
iPhone, Photoshop
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Life Color | Rachel Skaba Collage
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
The Truth to Reputation Rose Fuchs
Reputation, I see it as a bonus You shouldn’t do good deeds based on reputation Yes, reputation matters Yes, reputation rules Good deeds should come From the heart You shouldn’t have to dig to do something good Reputation, Yes, there are the positives Yes, there are the negatives Be yourself Be the best version yourself has to offer And that’s how to succeed Reputation It’s a bonus But only achieved by some
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When I Dance | Evelyn Tawil
Illustrator
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Magenta
Sally Jaradeh Let them be as burning red, warm orange, bleached yellow, forest green, cool blue. They’re always on the color wheel. I’d rather be a bright, violent magenta, barely found in everyday life, the type of color that when seen, pops out from all the rest. Every other color is a natural wavelength, a color on a spectrum, something normal, something bland. The eyes will use their red, blue, green cones to view these colors. But, magenta is most special, beautiful, unique. Magenta is an imagination of the brain, forced to comprehend what it was not made to understand. I would like to be, so unique and different, that no brain would ever figure me out. To grasp the very idea of what it’s seeing, for there is no other word, no other existing concept to use. Magenta stands out. It is bright, loud and individual. I would like to be magenta.
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The one who went to the market | Jayne Haddad
Watercolor, Marker
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Passion | Shelley Shamah
iPhone, Ballpoint Pen, Photoshop
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Confidence | Rachel Skaba
Illustrator
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The Day I Changed Sarah Vidal
This is a story that I have never told. “My pain is too intense to share.” I said, Like a knife to my heart, I felt it. All the pain and the truth, I wear like a battle wound. Ashamed of my past, Like a deep cut, With scarlet blood. I’ve got shame, I’ve got scars, That I am afraid to show. The shame caves out of me. It takes over my head, Manipulates me. “You need therapy.” they said. Now, Ten years later, I’m stronger than I’ve ever been. I am a soldier, A warrior. And my armor is made of steel, you can’t get in. I am not who I used to be. I’ve changed, The new me is tougher. I’ve got thicker skin. I improved. My mind is clear, My wounds have healed, And now I am happy.
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Relief | Shelley Shamah
Acrylic Paint
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One Woman Sarah Dagmy
“A penny for your thoughts,” she began as I stared longingly at the crisp blue sky. I chuckled at her wit. “Ma’am,” I confided. “I feel invisible, insignificant. What can I ever possibly become or do?” She smiled with her perfect posture and asked, “My dear do you know why I’m green?” As I shook my head, she continued, “I have listened to you and all my fellow females out there. Your blood, sweat, and tears have called out to me and weathered me. Yet we persist. We are all powerful and passionate. We are women. My crown has seven spikes to show that we can persevere all seven days of the week. If you scrape away the layers of adversity you will luster.” Encouraged by her words, I realized that I too can achieve my aspirations and overcome challenges. Lady Liberty is a beacon of hope for all of us. She may be green but the torch she lifts shines a promise of confidence and optimism. A sign of liberty, equality, diversity, opportunity, and aspirations. I someday hope to raise that torch as high as I can like the Statue of Liberty to show my parents that the torch they saw thirty-five years ago, as they immigrated to the United States, exists within me.
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A Sip | Orly Yazdi Photoshop
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Happiness | Pegasus 2020
Opportunity | Eve Shalom
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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Where the Sidewalking Ends Kaden Harari
“Stay on the sidewalk” is a common warning exclaimed by attentive parents while looking after their children outdoors. “Stay on the sidewalk” is a thought adults subconsciously repeat while looking after themselves outdoors. Indeed, sidewalks are not groundless! The reasoning behind sticking to sidewalks is sound logic; sidewalks provide pedestrians with a safer alternative rather than walking amongst motor vehicles racing towards their destination. From a young age, caution and fear are instilled into children to prevent them from harm. Toddlers live their daily lives with the impression of “sidewalk equals good” and “street only for when I’m feeling rebellious.” But what if this notion carries them through adulthood? This notion… Language is an intriguing concept. Somebody, somewhere, once strung together a bunch of shapes and figures and called them words. Using words is critical to our very survival, and there are many applications for our words. The trick is learning how to use them in ways that are creative, yet obvious; it’s quite enthralling to contemplate the various meanings of a single word in other contexts. Take “remote control,” for example. Almost all brains will automatically connect (through brainpower, not over WiFi) this phrase with a device that people use to direct commands at their television or other technology, but words are not limited to their most prevalent usage. The root of “remote control” simply conveys the message of controlling remotely. Without any preexisting knowledge, it could be used in a sentence that goes as follows: “Media is such a remote control!” Or even, “My brother influences me enormously; he’s the remote control in my life.” Similar to “remote control,” “sidewalk” has a connotation that is brought with it, as discussed above. It is the path on which pedestrians walk, but in a broader context, a sidewalk is the act of walking along the side. Sidewalking, whether it be avoiding attention or staying within a comfort zone, does not always hint to strolling down the pedestrian walkway. Sidewalking, as easy and preferable as it may be, is not the answer to our lifestyle, although society is raised with the notion that
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there is no other option. The notion… The notion that you are permitted only to sidewalk, that you shouldn’t dare step foot into the street. Crossing to the other side of the street is important. Sometimes straying off the regular path is necessary; not just when your destination can only be reached by stepping off the sidewalk, rather when your journey lacks exploration and discovery. An adventure awaiting you may finally stop waiting around from the moment you decide to veer away from the sidewalk. No longer will you feel accustomed to restrictions. Sidewalking is setting limitations upon ourselves, often times without being consciously aware of them. Why follow the exact guidelines of that project when you can open your mind to think outside the box? Go out and break social conformities; don’t linger too long in your comfort zone. A passive, non involved form of participating in life is to sidewalk. Wandering into the street blindly is not a healthy method of going about changing sidewalking habits. One can escape sidewalking by holding a responsible adult’s hand as he or she is guided across the street. Gradually, as time flies by and maturity comes alongside it, that toddler with the amateaur idea of merely black and white will begin to experiment with reality. Analyze the situation. Is this a two-way street? Examine the pros and cons; is this a street I’m interested in crossing? Dive into the worthwhile risks; but don’t forget to look both ways before crossing.
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SADNESS
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Road to Recovery | Gabrielle Weinwurzel iPhone, Photoshop
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Regret
Joshua Romano I hate the end The way I never said goodbye Who knew our paths would never cross again? Who knew our time together would fly? Every smile I took for granted Every laugh I should’ve held on to Made me feel that our time together was wasted But living in the past won’t change a thing It will just make it so much harder To let go of everything
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Black and White and Blue All Over | Danielle Reichman
Acrylic Paint, iPhone
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Perspectives Lydia Ezon
If only we looked at everything we went through in a positive light We would have realized that it’s part of life’s cycle and darkness will turn bright
The Storm
Allison Heskiel What I want seems so near But is light years away. I’m not asking for a lot, I’m not asking for the world; I’m asking for communication For the feeling of being cared for For the feeling of being wanted. But i’m out here Trying to cover up the storm.
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Spilling | Shelley Shamah
Canon Rebel T6, Acrylic Paint, Photoshop
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Flat Like a Pancake Natalie Ryba
Have you ever taken a walk down memory lane? Thought it’d be nice to revisit some great moments? See everything that you used to hold closest to your heart? Those people are gone now. Long gone. And sadly, all there’s left is music. Jazz music. The kind that’s supposed to sound romantic, but now just sounds as if it’s there to mock you. The kind that reminds you of what was once there. The kind that once made you feel as though “forever” was indeed forever. Miles Davis’s once vibrant, but now flat “Kind of Blue” Plays softly. But only heard by one ear The other is pressed up against the pillow. The music is insultingly flat. Flat like a pancake. With static in the background from the beaten up record. Oh how you used to twirl. Twirl and twirl and twirl. Then laugh till the sun rose. Those days are gone, Long gone. And now all you can do is pray. Pray that your tears don’t soak your sheets And your sobs won’t wake the neighbors.
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Wave of Debt | Lynn Pichotto
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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The Beast
Ginger Ammar People always think There is something Out to get them A cloud of depression Over their heads The beast they say Holds the darkness in the word And blocks out happiness But sometimes I think Maybe there is no beast Maybe it’s only us
Is God There? Shlomie Katash
Dear God Can you come out Can you hear my deep cry Are you hiding from everyone Please god
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Lifeline | Jennifer Salzman
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Crevices | Shelley Shamah
Acrylic Paint
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Reality | Jeanne Cohen
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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“The Letter I Never Got to Write” by Amir Raquel Silvera in the voice of Amir of The Kite Runner by Khaled Housseini
The debt I owe you can never be repaid-The warmth you enveloped me with- never to be returned. The memories you shared with me- never to be reminisced. The secrets you kept for me- never to be revealed. To refer to you as a friend could never do you justice For you knew me wholey and deeply, For you protected me and shielded me And wore the external scars of your bravery like a crown. To refer to me as your friend would be far kinder than I deserve For I knew you wholey and deceived you, For I protected “me” too and not you And wore the internal scars of my cowardice like a branding. Oh what I’d give to share but just one pomegranate with you again-An arm, a leg… my life, my soul. How foolish we were! To squander the time we had as friends When we had no time at all together as brothers. I must confess my sins to you or they’ll burn me from the inside out-I saw. I knew. I lied. I saw what they did to you in that alley and I hid.
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Broken Scars | Jayne Haddad Charcoal, pen, pencil
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The Sacrifice of Success Aidan Herzlinger
Yes, I am successful, But is the sacrifice worth it? Do I love the grind? I do it because of my hunger, But I can’t love you obsessively for much longer. For happiness, I cannot find.
Someone Like You Sarah Sedaka
Not a goodbye, not a hug Not a grin or a wave You know that I could use somebody Someone like you Something like us I had it once upon a time I thought you’d stay But instead you went away I wish I knew where ‘Cause I could use someone like you
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Alone in a Crowd | Danielle Reichman iPhone
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Stargazing | Simone Dweck
Micron Pens, Watercolors, Spray Paint
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The Art of Appropriation Shelley Shamah
I was eight years old when I first saw appropriation in its very raw form. I was sitting in the principal’s office, staring at the Marylin Monroe images done by Andy Warhol hanging behind his desk. These images are perhaps the most famous pieces of the Appropriation Movement. He directly copied a pre-existing portrait of Marylin Monroe and applied his own small changes to it. But that’s not the appropriation I’m talking about. I was in the principal’s office because a boy poked me in the eye with scissors, so I sat there, all innocent looking, waiting for my friend to come in to tell Mr. Zeplin that she saw the boy cut my eye. Because eight-year-old girls typically say whatever their friends say, my friend was ready to back me up. She would say exactly what I wanted to hear, and so would the next friend, and the friend after that. Nobody wanted to be the one to say that they didn’t see anything happen. The human race really shouldn’t be called people, we should be called sponges. We react based on our environments. We take in little bits of everyone around us that eventually form an individual personality. It’s almost impossible to find the true form of yourself until you’re alone staring at yourself in the mirror asking the inevitable question that everyone has (or at least I have) asked at least once in their life: “Who am I?” Appropriation occurs when people take the pulse of their surroundings, what people are saying, wearing and acting based on that. In a simple sense, appropriation happens when one girl wears a fancy skirt to a gathering, so her friend does too, and another friend and so on. It happens when there is so much social pressure to look the same, dress the same, even talk the same. Before you know it, a small gathering of friends becomes a society gala where teenage girls are crying over miniature chocolates and ruining their eye makeup in the process! When famous celebrities create catchphrases, their fans start saying them. James Charles, a YouTube makeup sensation, coined the term “sisters.” Not a day goes by where I don’t hear someone use the term. His fans are using his words and mannerisms that they adopted from his videos. Some stars tried to copyright their catchphrases which would create ownership of the words. Rapper, Cardi B tried to take ownership of the catchphrase “okurr,” but because the phrase had already become so famous, it was too late. This is much like the original version of appropriation, where an artist copies another piece of art directly. Appropriation affects relationships, too. On the level of marriage, there has to be a level of balance between each spouse. For example, if a husband decides to be a democrat, it’s very easy for his wife to agree and become a democrat as well. How-
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ever, she needs a sense of self before she can truly appropriate simply because she agrees, not because she feels like she has to. However, not all forms of appropriation are detrimental. Some of my fondest memories wouldn’t be possible without it. My first grade teacher told me that children were not allowed to receive presents on Hanukkah. That shattered my six-yearold heart. I asked myself years later, “How could it be possible that giving gifts was against Jewish law?” A rabbi explained to me that the custom of gift giving on Hanukkah is really just adopted or “stolen” from the Christians, whom Jews lived among for thousands of years. Technically it’s not forbidden, just not true to the religion. Without the appropriation of presents on Hanukkah that we got from Christmas, or the cool costumes that I’ve made myself for Purim that were taken from Halloween, or even the Challah that I eat on Shabbat that came from Polish bakeries, I wouldn’t be me. The exact definition of appropriation is the action of taking something for one’s own use, typically without the owner’s permission. But today everything can be made our own with the touch of a button, and usually, stealing is frowned upon. So people have created the in-between, which is essentially appropriation. In the art world, when artists don’t want to admit that they stole another artist’s idea, they’ll mask it by saying that they were “inspired” by it. In most cases, the second art piece looks almost identical to the first. In a business, nobody wants to be the person who pitches an idea that wasn’t his own, so he says that he was “inspired” by what his colleague said at the meeting the other day. Appropriation is masked in nearly every situation that it presents itself in. Appropriation can be reworded into so many different phrases: influence, inspire, steal, copy, imitate, and others, but none of these words complete the action of taking something and making it your own from start to finish. That ‘something’ doesn’t always have to be an art piece, like what the word is typically used for, but rather, an idea, a style, a custom, even something as simple as a word. When I was sitting in the principal’s office that day in second grade, that friend I mentioned was never called in. Mr. Zeplin told me to choose someone else to account for what happened. He knew that my friends would take what I said and make it their own. He knew that even as eight year old girls, we had mastered the art of appropriation.
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Shadows | Danielle Reichman Pencil
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What Happened? | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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Planet Jack H. Dweck Canon Rebel
Under the Surface | Mattan Jackier
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Divine Outreach David Shalam
I stood upon the beach, To the heavens I reach. My heart is open Yet, I feel broken. Upon my surprise, I notice the sunrise. I rest my eyes, understanding the disguise, of the morning skies. The waves come crashing, On the sand they are lashing. Understanding dawns, With it I yawn. It is time to rest, I have passed the test.
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Obsession | OrDavid Menashe
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Too Late | Sarah Dagmy
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Rise Again | Max Shalom
Resourced Images, Illustrator, Photoshop
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Taken
Suzanne Mosseri Their childhood, Their memories Happiness and Safety Taken Their families, Their friends Taken Lost kids unable to mess around Taken Lost kids unknowing of fun Taken Everything was a long way taken Used to run in tag Replaced Now run in fear Replaced Used to hold toys Replaced Now hold weapons Replaced Everything was a long way replaced Faith in humanity Lost Trust in others Lost Children’s innocence Lost Children’s immaturity Lost Everything was a long way lost Used to have dreams Gone Now we have nightmares Gone Happiness and safety Gone Lives and freedom Gone Everything was a long way gone.
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Cry - Album Cover | Amber Betesh
iPhone, Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Dear Feelings Ralph Askenazi
Dear Feelings, Dear confusing thoughts, Dear agony, Dear pain, All these years, All that trouble, Dear happy. Why is it so much work, Just to stay, With you? Dear Feelings. Dear Feelings, Dear bad days, Dear life being a maze, Dear sunshine displays, All those years, All that gloom, Looming over me. Dear sad, How do you always catch up, With me? Dear feelings.
Dear Feelings, Dear nothing, Dear mediocracy, Dear uninterest, All those years All those lifeless things, Dear boredom, Why do you always come after me? Dear Feelings. Dear feelings, How is it that I could have so many? How is it that I could feel so much at once? How is that one feeling could mean so much, To me? Dear Feelings. You truly are something, If not, at least to me. Dear feelings.
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Climate Change | Abigail Tuachi
Resurced Images, Photoshop
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Glaciers | Solomon Nussbaum
Resurced Images, Photoshop
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Man in Despair | Yvette Dana
Resourced Images, Photoshop
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Loneliness
Shelly Zebak I feel lonely Isolated from the whole world Looked down on Just because of the color of my skin All by myself In one, tiny room I don’t have friends or People who love me No one wants to talk to me No one likes me No one cares about me All because of my race So I sit in my small space Looking at the empty walls Dreaming of a world Where I am seen as someone who matters Despite being me
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Faith | Vivian Hamui
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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Memories of Men By Rose Sternberg
It’s through memories that heroes are made For the deeds of men are temporary But memories can never fade. They are recorded in a library Left for a later generation The tale of a hero and his adversary. The tale of a hero resisting temptation The tale of a hero choosing To save his love or his nation. Sometimes the hero ends up losing And drags himself home, broken and bruising.
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Lost - Album Cover | Shelly Matsas
iPhone, resourced images, Photoshop
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I Am Fine | Jeanne Cohen
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Rainy Kisses | Jayne Haddad Watercolor
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The Stains Left Behind Hymie Gindi
I started off with a clean slate, with no understanding of violence But as I grow, the stains keep to spread Every day, I lose a sense of my innocence Each time I see new people, I think it’s over I think I’m going to die and there’s no point of even living Each time, I lose my purity and my stains spread The stains begin to concentrate and become a part of me I’m losing my humanity Everywhere I go, no one can trust me I feel like an outcast, my world is filled with everlasting danger The stains destroy my purity The whiteness of my soul darkens, My shoes become filthy and disgusting Things change in times of war, especially for me My shoes are important for survival, not for show I think to myself that I can live with the stains But the truth always comes out at the end The stains are hard to clean out They must be cleaned Otherwise, they’re left as ugly dye The dye is to never be removed It becomes part of me I can’t seem to cleanse myself Drugs temporarily fade my stains But my stains just return stronger than before What can I do to cleanse my soul What can repair human nature The stains are cleansed as I talk about my past I can only repair once I understand and acknowledge my past My stains are not part of me They are embedded in my memories My memories can be accepted and used as wisdom Once I see the good in my past, I can always improve my future The stains no longer can plague me They’ve been left behind
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Game Point | Betty Hidary iPhone
Leaving Behind | Shelley Shamah Canon Rebel
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Dear Summer Evelyn Lincer
Dear Summer, Where have you gone? I have been waiting for you for six months now You told me you were coming back soon It’s been six months. Life without you is hard, It’s cold and lonely If you don’t come home soon, I’m going to have to move on, Without you And onto someone else. Goodbye summer, The girl you left behind
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Faking It | Jeanne Cohen
Illustrator
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Breakups
Rose Fuchs Breakups What’s that? I put on a big smile I pretend to not have a care in the world They laugh I laugh They smile I smile I tell myself that everything is fine Everything will be fine But what if that’s not true What if ignoring situations Makes them worse You have to take actions You have to own up to your emotions You can’t just hide all your emotions One day you’ll just explode Everything will just come out You tried to keep it to yourself And maintain your bubble But it popped Your whole life popped All your secrets are out Maybe they were meant to be out But you’ll never know Breakups
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Modern Loneliness | Gabrielle Weinwurzel Nikon 3500, Photoshop
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Never Forgotten | Betty Hidary
Canon Rebel, resourced images, Photoshop
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Danielle Mehani as the character Mabel of The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead
No Longer Gone By: Mabel
Grayson, Oh Grayson! How we held each other, gone. Gone. The moon that shines through the trees how could it have meaning when you are not here? I have no answers, they are gone. You’re gone. We have a daughter, Grayson: Cora, Oh Cora! My tears a river as I think of you; I left but he left me first. The thought of you returns to me, shames me to know what I left behind, who I left behind, Who left me behind. Your image strikes! me; I feel myself falling falling farther and farther… Grab my hand, Cora! don’t let me go, I am coming back to you, reaching for you.
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I see it now: the light. I’m squinting as it comes nearer. It must be the sun, am I Too late? I must be back before sunrise, Cora! When you awake I will be by your side. I feel your hand pull me up. Have you found me, sweetie? But no, the hand that pulls me, it’s too strong. They’ve found me: The Hunters! I writhe, I scream I break from his grasp; the light, it begins to fade Come with me, Mabel– I hear a voice. It’s tone vibrates within me, soothes me. I feel safe; I am not in danger. I reach up and the voice’s owner grabs it again, the light reappears. I forget the pain. I forget Cora. Grayson, is that you?
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A Thousand Storms - Album Cover | Sivan Garber
iPhone, resourced Images, Photoshop
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Then and Now | Sarah Richter
Canon Rebel, resourced images, Photoshop
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Dreams Through the Years Robyn Beyda
I dream in hip-hop and soccer games Of my father and mother, happy in love So we would sit down together as a family, as a whole I dream in cool waters, splashing with friends Of standing on stage Lights shining on my face The crowd cheering my name as I rap our hit song I dream in dark forests and abandoned villages Of my sweet home in Mattru Jong Where the moon shone brighter than it does now Where I remained oblivious to war And the blood of my people I hope for survival I lie awake at night Afraid to dream Afraid of nightmares I dream of slaughtering rebels Like Rambo did his enemies Every last one of them dying a gruesome death They murdered my family They deserve to die
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I no longer dream I just smoke and kill And kill And kill My comrades cheer my name as I butcher them all Now as I heal, I dream of my past Of slit throats and mass murders Of the blood of young boys So much blood It forever stains my white bed sheets I killed their families Do I deserve to live? The war was years ago My nightmares haunt me still Dreams of my family and friends My happiness stolen And of course I dream of the unforgivable atrocities in Sierra Leone
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ANGER
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Two Faced | Leora Elnatanov Acrylic Paint
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Emotions
Talya Shamoelian Release all emotions and never look back; If he must, let him shout; No tear is dripping now, but if there is, Let it all out. It is hard to feel numb, It is hard to ignore one’s feelings; So let out all emotions and free the pain, And embrace the person who you’ve become.
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Shook | Amanda Zeitune Canon Rebel
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No Anger | Joyce Louz
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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The System is Whack Lillian Louz
Why didn’t I have a choice? It’s like we’re all stuck in this bubble, Unable to escape what was predetermined for us. There is no way out. Its fragile iridescent walls surround, and suffocate. Easy to see in, hard to get out. Forced into boundaries, Unable to pop the lines that would set us free. Most don’t even attempt, To push back. Why was everything decided for me? Born into a family. Mother, Father, Brother, Sister Manicured lawns in front of those Brooklyn brick houses. Born into a world where the rules were set, and we, We are forced to play. Their religion, in their community, with all the rules that followed. Rules that aimed to contain, No one questioned the rules because society told us not to. The few that do are shushed or shunned because No one ever wants change. Why did no one ever ask for my opinion? Raised to conform, Sent to a school and forced into an education, No input whether you even wanted it or not. You learn what is required of you, the same studies as everyone else: History, Math, English, Science. Things are necessary for you to do, and you,
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You have no choice but to fulfill. The friends you make are brainwashed, Just like you. None of you were ever let out of the illusion. It’s okay though, you all know of nothing better. As you grow up, the bubble gets a little more air. You feel privileged, Like you’re able to do as you please. But, even that freedom has its limits. Everything always has restrictions, don’t you ever forget that. However, bubbles do float. You may be one of the lucky to catch a glimpse, A peak of the more that is out there. Of the world that lies beyond what you always knew, What your community always has known. But, you’re still in your bubble. And those forces, they push you back, Carrying you on a wind back home. Unable to stop thinking about what lies beyond, That glimpse of freedom, of life. But even though your fate is sealed, Even though there is no escape, You try and try. Pushing against those seemingly fragile walls, Hands turning white by the mere force. Unlucky for you, The bubble you’re trapped in, It won’t everPOP.
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Old ways WON'T
OPEN
NEW
DOORS
New Doors | Esther Alhakim
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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Dinero - Album Cover | Lillian Haddad iPhone, Photoshop
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Acid Eyes | Jayne Haddad Pencil
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Crime Scene | Isabella Tuachi
Collage, acrylic paint
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Just Like The Ocean Ralph Askenazi
Sometimes the ocean waves may be small, Tiny waves rocking back and forth. Lacking courage, but safe, and calm. Lacking courage, but happy, and sane. And sometimes, that’s me. Sometimes the ocean waves may be big, Huge waves swinging back and forth, Full of courage, not calm, not sane. Full of courage, but crazy, and brave. But isn’t being brave better? Isn’t being brave bolder? Isn’t being brave great? And sometimes that’s me. Sometimes, the ocean waves may be huge. A collection of anger, frustration, And a saddening depression. To show just how powerful those are. Sweeping away castles,
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Happy memories, Staying mad, and loud, Not willing to quiet. Not brave, but crazy. Not sane, but laced with insanity. And sometimes, that’s me. A big wave rocking, going back and forth, Destroying families, Setting calamities, Causing damage, Then, I’ll calm down. Because just like the ocean, I’m a human full of emotion. Full of different types of waves. Never truly stuck in one state. And like that I’ll stay, Just like the ocean, And its waves.
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Mr. Chillingworth | Jayne Haddad Pencil
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Pray for the Fallen - Album Cover | Morris Madeb
iPhone, resourced images, Photoshop
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Constant Themes in Architecture | Max Shalom
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Anger | Pegasus 2020
Veins | Jayne Haddad Charcoal
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Letter to Hitler Danielle Dweck
Dear Hitler, I imagine you as a little boy An artist by nature; Swirling the colors of emotions and thought Into a geometrical form I imagine you were loved That people would miss you if you were hurt I imagine you loved That there were people you would die for I imagine you getting sick Your human body fighting disease like any other being But then, I remind myself That you are not ordinary I do not have to imagine if you hated Because you showed me how much you did six million times I do not have to imagine if you were charismatic Because the turn of the country showed me you were I do not have to imagine if you were anything other than selfish When you took your own life I do not have to imagine you painting grey Because you were clearly black and white Left and right I question if you felt yourself Carve the scar into the back of the Jewish star I question if it warmed your heart To join the bloody trenches of history I question if you had to watch anyone’s soul
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Drip out of their eyes I question if you had a spine Or just a hand to write away lives I am bewildered by you Who started off like the rest of us I am bewildered by you Who had the choice of good or bad I am bewildered by you Who faced the same tests as the rest of us But failed every time I picture you as a little boy And I try to convince myself That you were loved That you were human That you meant the world to someone I picture the moment You turned from a boy into a man I picture your face, as you see us now How you tried, six million times To tell us no Yes, si, ja, oui, sim, evet No matter where we are in the world We will keep saying yes When you say heil Hitler We say am yisrael chai
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Endurance | Marc Lessler
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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The Waiting Game | Shelley Shammah iPhone
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Blinded | Jeanne Cohen
Collage, resourced images, Acrylic Paint
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Seeing Red | Jeanne Cohen
Collage, resourced images, Acrylic Paint
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The Future - Album Cover | Noya Shebshaievitz
iPhone, resourced images, Photoshop
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Eternal Brotherhood Nathan Sidaoui
Eternal Brotherhood Betrayal of man The plume of disguise An ounce of scheming, two pints of concealing But the cake has been burnt for hours The remorse of man Wishful thinking Begging, pleaing, aspires for the impossible The vindication of man A hand beyond the grave His burden lifted, a kite holds my forgiveness, the bear doesn’t hold your future Dear God, how foolish man is Brotherhood is brotherhood War is War Love is love Man is man Life isn’t eternal, redemption is feasible If all these truths have held the test of time Then how doesn’t he grasp that a boy’s muteness open his gates of heaven
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FEAR
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Covid 19 | Marilyn Shaso Ice, food colorant, Canva
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Fear | Pegasus 2020
Day Becoming Night David Shalam
Day and night will always be at war, But they will never meet to fight. However close they always will be, They may never touch. The day glows up the world While the night blankets in darkness. Birds chirping for sunrise, Owls hooting at night. The night is coming, and we are not prepared. The darkness is coming, It eclipses all the light stole. A short-won victory, Daylight returns.
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Unconventonal Dancing | Simone Dweck
Micro pen, watercolor
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Fear | Pegasus 2020
From the Eyes of a Survivor Rose Fuchs
Horror, tragedy, sadness That’s what comes to mind How could someone allow something like this to happen? Powerless is how we felt Not able to take control Fighting to stay alive This was not a game This was our reality Brutal tattoos engraved in our arms Making us unable to ever forget We could cry or scream But that would only get us killed Babies killed, families separated How did this happen? People say they try to forget This is not something to be forgotten If we don’t continue to spread our stories Then who will? Generations are passing by And we are starting to die out We need to stay strong And carry on Making people see the true story From the eyes of a survivor
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Determined to Conquer | Danielle Reichman Pencil
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"Believe you can and you're halfway there" Theodre Roosevelt
Teddy | Edward Hamway
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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Persecution to Liberation Esther Mizrachi
I woke up to a loud sound, so I went downstairs to see what was happening. The frantic tone my mother used to explain to me what was going on frightened me. “Come on, hurry on down!” she shouted as my heart was breaking through my chest. My family and I had been living in the same house and neighborhood since I was born and every day there was a risk that we may be in danger. I always knew the Muslims that surrounded our neighborhood were capable of horrific things, but I never thought it would actually come to this. It’s been one week since our house had been burnt down by the Muslims and we were forced to leave. Luckily, our Christian neighbors, the Gevargheses, were willing to give my family shelter, while my father went to find work in Israel. Throughout our stay at the neighbors, I wasn’t able to push aside the thought that my father may not be okay. But I knew that being the oldest child in the family came with the responsibility of acting like an adult and setting an example for my siblings. So, I took it upon myself to always act positive and hopeful. That night my mother returned with some news. “As you all know, U’ba is in Israel looking for a job and a place for us to settle. But, in the meantime, we must look for a home ourselves. There will be a car waiting outside at 3:00 am tonight taking us to the mountains of Lebanon, where we can hide out until U’ba returns.” “But U’ma, will we be safe there? Will U’ba be able to find us?” asked Victor. “We’ve been living with the Gavergehses for a week now and we cannot overstay our welcome. We cannot continue to put their lives in danger,” my mother whispered as she heard the Gevargheses coming down the hallway. “You guys have been living among us for a good amount of time now, and we were wondering what your plan is,” asked Mary Gevarghese, worried that she would receive a response she isn’t hoping to hear. “We have made our arrangements to leave tonight. Thank you for your kind and generous gesture of letting us stay here while we figure out where to go,” my mother responded, sounding unsure of what the next step in our journey will be. 134
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__________________________________________________________ My family had been asleep for about three hours, but I couldn’t bring myself to shut my eyes and let go of all the worries I had, especially with my father thousands of miles away from us. “Get in! Get in! We need to go!” the smuggler shouted. I helped my mother pack the few bags of necessities we needed to travel the long distance. The car smelled as if someone died in it and we were sitting in their remains. I heard Victor crying on U’ma’s lap and turned to see what was the matter. He looked tired and was shivering, so I signaled my mother to ask the smuggler to stop the car. My mother and I took him out of the car and wrapped him in a fuzzy blanket, given to us as a parting gift by the Gavegheses. “U’ma, how is he?” I asked my mother knowing we won’t be on our way any time soon. She just turned her head until she could see me from the corner of her eye and signaled me to keep quiet. And so, I sat in silence waiting for an update on Vic’s status. _________________________________________________________ The mountains were colder than we could ever imagine. Once we got to the area where refugees gathered, my family and I were forced to sleep on the floor next to the Brahas, another Jewish family we recognized from our old neighborhood. Even though the tall trees and beautiful mountains were aesthetically pleasing, life in hiding was difficult. The dreadful nights were colder than the coldest winters in Aleppo, especially since Victor took possession of our only blanket. During the day, I watched after Victor while my mother went out to scrounge up whatever food she could get a hold of. This was what life was like for the next three weeks here in the mountains of Lebanon. After three weeks of sleeping on the ground, eating any food that came into sight, and worrying about our father, we decided it was time to depart from the Lebanese mountains. I overheard the Brahas saying they’d be driving into Beirut, Lebanon and knew that this was our chance to leave and start a new life. “U’ma! U’ma, you have no idea what I just heard. Remember that family from our old neighborhood? The Brahas? Well, they’re planning to leave the mountains and drive to Beirut,” I reported to my mother
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as she was trying to comprehend my fast-speaking. “This is great news, let me check with them to see if it is alright for us to tag along,” my mother responded. She went over to the area where they took shelter and talked them into allowing us to join them on their trip to Beirut. _________________________________________________________ “That was the bumpiest ride I have ever been on,” said Vic. “I would just like to thank you kind people again for allowing us to ride with you to Beirut,” my mother told the Braha family. “The pleasure is ours!” they responded. From this point on, my family and I felt we were finally able to live freely without any worries that we would have to pack our bags and flee in fear. We were fortunate enough to have a relative living in Beirut who helped us land on our feet. My mother’s brother, Uncle Salim, had been living in Beirut since he and his family moved five years earlier. Uncle Salim was kind enough to find us a home and give my mother a job in order to sustain our family, while my father continued to search for a better job in Israel. After three weeks of living in Beirut on our own, my father finally returned home. While he was happy to see his family, his heart was heavy because he came back unsuccessful and couldn’t find a job in Israel. I was just happy to be a complete family once again. My father, Rahmo Faour, had been roaming Beirut in search of a way to make a living, since my mother’s salary wasn’t sufficient to support the family. Once my father found a job as a banker, life became tranquil and we got more comfortable. So we thought. Until came the holiday of Rosh Hashanah, when the Arabs would throw rocks at Jewish homes and riot in the streets. “There goes a bullet in the wall. Come see, Victor! I found one. A real bullet. It’s stuck in our wall,” I shouted. “Lione, I’m comin’. Hold on!” Vic replied. ____________________________________________________________ After ten years of countless riots, my father decided that it was time to run away from the persecution and to settle his family in a more liberated country. Through his investigation, he discovered a company called Hayas that helped to transport immigrants from different countries to America.
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My father paced back and forth contemplating how to break the news to his wife. “Bella, what do you think? Maybe we can take the family to America, where we can live peacefully, like my brother did? We cannot live with the Arabs anymore.” “Rahmo, are you sure? How will we move the family. We don’t have enough money. It is expensive to travel such a long distance. And where will we live?” “I found the company Hayas. They will help us to move. And my brothers said they will help me to pay. They also say we can live downstairs in their house. It is good for the children to grow up in America. I don’t want to live with the Arabs and the riots anymore. We have good children. They can be successful in America. You need to trust me.” U’ma knew that it was the right thing to do. We couldn’t go on living with the chaos any longer. It had been ten long years and the hope that things would change died out. There were so many stories that we heard of people moving to America and enjoying life, while we were still living among the Arabs. _____________________________________________________ It took one week for Hayas to prepare a flight connecting us from Beirut to America. During this interval, each member of my family packed a bag of our most prized possessions and whatever didn’t fit had to be left behind. After about 15 long hours, we finally arrived at our destination. America was just as we imagined it to be, crowded but full of opportunity. My family and I were shoved into the large group of people who had just arrived as well. It was so chaotic since everyone was searching for the people they knew. U’ma spotted one of U’ba’s brothers deep into the crowd, and I shoved my way passed hundreds of people to help Vic get through. “Shtatilkon! Been a while, huh?” asked Uncle Ralph in a sarcastic tone. “Ahalan, I missed you my brother,” U’ba said as he kissed both his cheeks. We were all excited to finally be in America and take advantage of the opportunity that awaited us.
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Collision | Mickey Shamah
Resourced images, Photoshop
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We Can Do It | Carole Cohen
Resourced images, Illustrator, Photoshop
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Pushing Through | Yvette Dana Resourced images, Photoshop
Camera Shy | Sonya Bakst Canon Rebel
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Capital Punishment Jayne Haddad
A means to a (never)end(ing) The difference between a poke and a probe The wind will carry my soul And sprinkle on the riverbend Harmony with land Yet swallowed by rock Again with (Pa)rents No longer alone Gentler than a paw But crueler than a bite A hand brings down The gavel of bleak futures Thought of as release By state: containment Others: justice Me: over
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A New Frame | Grace Madeb
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Fear | Pegasus 2020
Eye Stop | Virginia Oved
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Overflow | Danielle Reichman Ink
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Dear Anxiety Rebecca Mann
You come and go but mostly come The day before tests You make me stressed and nervous Can’t eat, can’t think You’re always on my mind I stay up late at night Thinking about you And the ways I can wash you away But you always just seem to come back No matter how hard I try
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Inside and Out | Sonya Bakst Illustrator
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Fear | Pegasus 2020
So lost | Sarah Dagmy
Digital illustration, resourced images, Photoshop
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Confidence Pops | Carole Cohen
Acrylic paint, rollers, stencil
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Fear
Ninette Setton I should do it Get on that roller coaster Close my eyes and never look back How long will I live my life afraid of what-ifs? I should do it Just get on line and face my fears I’m tired of living without really living Because my mind gets in the way
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Gang Gang | Betty Hidary iPhone
150
Fear | Pegasus 2020
SBP - Album Cover | Ruthie Derzie
iPhone, resourced images, Photoshop
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Starting Anew Ralph Askenazi
Gloria had finally left Syria, and arrived in America. After the checkup at Ellis Island, Gloria was in. She came to her cousin’s house with just one luggage on her, and a ravished appetite. Her cousin invited her in. She sat at the chairs and gobbled up the stew he gave her. “Can I sleep here until I find a place to rent?” “For sure. The guest room is to the left.” She went to the guest room and collapsed on the bed, glad to finally have something comfortable to sleep on. She woke up the next day, and started looking for a job. She couldn’t find any jobs, and after looking, her mind still feeling like it was still disconnected from her body. She had a headache, and felt like collapsing. While walking, she tried to remember what her family said to her right before she left to America. She couldn’t remember anything, except for once having lived in Syria. She tried to enjoy the sights of America, but the headache was slowly killing her. She looked all around the town for signs of jobs, and read one about a maid. After about an hour of searching, and a stop at her cousin’s house to dress up, she arrived at the job interview. She took a stop at the door of the house. After about a minute of knocking, she was invited into the house. She picked herself up and at sat at one of the chairs. After a painful twenty minutes of pretending that she was fine a candidate for the job, surprisingly, she got the job. She was shocked at how easy it was, and how good the salary would be. The only catch was that she had to arrive at six in the morning, but she would be done by six in the evening, the night housekeeper taking over. She really wanted to work, one to afford bringing the rest of her family to America, and two, simply to have money.
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She came back to the house, only to see her cousin sick. He was holding his chest and lying on the couch. She looked at him, and then said,” are you okay?” “I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Time soon showed, Gloria arriving home from work, as each day passed hazily, that he was not fine. He was really sick. Gloria forced him to go see a doctor. “Is there anything wrong with him?” “Not from what we can tell. Let him sleep at home, and he’ll probably get better soon.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” That doctor’s visit sucked up about fifty dollars out of Gloria’s wallet. Gloria started making dinner, and sometimes breakfast, if they were both up early enough. Gloria’s headaches stopped, but she felt that the life that she wasn’t living wasn’t real. More and more each day, she thought that same thought. It was really weird. Along with that, she started to try to find a place to live. What would happen if her cousin would die? He talked once about selling the house, and giving the rest of the money to his family. That would mean that she wouldn’t be able to live there anymore, though. She found a small, but expensive apartment, and asked if she could start renting it in three months. She payed around three hundred dollars as a down payment, meaning that if her cousin started healing, she would lose that money. As the days started going on, her cousin, did in fact start healing, until he was just as good as he was before. Except, he now was out of money and a job. He was fine, but still not good enough to get a job. Then as it was starting to be all good, he was starting to get sick, really sick, again.
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The family started getting annoyed at Gloria for coming late each day, and having to leave early some days to take care of her cousin. They threatened to fire her. Gloria was glad that her cousin was feeling decent again. She came to work extra early the next day, because she really wanted to save up money to bring her family to America. There was one day where that all changed. This was a normal day, and Gloria had arrived a couple of minutes early, to try and appease the family. In a second of baking dinner for the family, and not paying attention, she set the stove on fire. The panic that she felt didn’t feel like it was apart of her, but for her sanity, she pretended that it was. She reached for the golden plated fire extinguisher. She figured how to use it. This was just as the fire almost burned her face. She sprayed it at the fire, the fire extinguishing. She remembered the family saying when the whole job started, a year ago,” If there is ever a fire, reach for the fire extinguisher.” In a panic, she realized what the family said next,” of course, if there is ever a fire, we would need to fire you…” The house was empty, and she tried to see if there was a way to salvage the damage. She looked and realized the kitchen was severely burnt. There goes her job. She tried to put the fire extinguisher back. she missed the shelf. It hit her head, and knocked her unconscious on the floor. All of a sudden, in what seemed like seconds later, but was in fact a full five hours later, she remembered. She remembered that her cousin had been sent from Syria first. She was second, since she was second oldest, and her full extended family had lived together. Her whole family wanted to come, but they could only afford one ticket at a time, and they went in order of age. Anyhow, the next youngest after Gloria, was Miriam, who was just ten at the time, and she was too young to go. After boarding the boat, and while listening to someone else’s
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radio, she heard that the place where her family was living in had been missled. She hoped that they fine, until she heard that there were no survivors. She had been hoping to go to America to get enough money to send the whole family there. Now, she had nothing to look forward to. She thought that her mind was just trying to protect her from remembering what had happened to give her a reason to go on, but now she had no reason to go on. She ran home, the family firing her on the way out. She saw that her cousin had died, and his body was on the kitchen floor. She gagged and brought his body outside. Now what? She didn’t know what to do. She reached for the rotary phone that her cousin had in her house, and tried to remember the number of the police. After about ten minutes of trying to remember, she finally remembered it. The body was taken away the same day, and now, at least for the next couple of days, she had the house to herself. She didn’t know what to do, just as clueless as when she came, and she was ready to give it up all to go back and find her family alive. Her family guided her‌, she wanted to at least believe that her family was alive. After all, without that there was nothing to live for. But my grandma continued on, my grandma starting anew. One day she got married, and started a new life, despite it not being worth it at first, and one day, it all continued down to me.
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Sky City | Abigail Tuachi
Resourced Images, Photoshop
156
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Fate
Jem Hanan My dearest Fate, Hidden behind dark storm clouds Or perhaps just my fingers You took the shape of a troll A gleeful smirk on your wart-filled face As you tugged at my hair And kicked at my knees Hurling burden after burden Into a cauldron above a sweltering flame Reeking of judgement and responsibility Your fat fingered hand grasping a wooden spoon Slowly stirring the bubbling, bitter, broth. But once I mustered up the courage To blow away the smoke Billowing from the cigarettes in a marble ashtray I saw serenity edged with sorrow A woman with glazed amber eyes And tear stained cheeks Flipping the yellowed, crinkled pages Of a book without an ending in sight. I took a tentative peak at the battered cover And rather than your name inked in swirling letters, I saw my own.
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Introverted | Hannah Lazerowitz Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Middle of The Night Ralph Askenazi
Can’t quite fall asleep, Full of worry, Worry, and guilt, my mistakes, It’ll haunt me for a lifetime, I guarantee. Can’t quite fall asleep. Not even tired, ‘Cause I’m in too deep, Undesired thoughts, all my mistakes still unexpired. Can’t quite fall asleep, Too full of emotions, Holding on to too many past mistakes, I still want to keep My brain stuck in commotion. Maybe, years after, when everyone else forgot, still awake, Maybe it’s time to let go, relax, and go to sleep, finally taking a break.
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"Sometimes You will never know the VALUE of a moment, until it becomes a MEMORY."
Memories | Estelle Setton
Ice, food colorant, Canva
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Contrast | Shelley Shamah
Acrylic paint
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Standing Guard | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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The Smiling Girls Gabriel Levi
A deadly disease can ruin a nation Wipe smiles off faces Destroy dreams that were only forming People are left behind Mourning lives not lived Mourning hopes not realized All dreams gone Buried beneath fear
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Chesed | Marsha Zakay
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Light Creation I | Sonya Bakst Canon Rebel
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Five Strangers
Noyah Shebshaievitz Aiden Fox was the first to wake up. His eyes took in the swaying palm trees above him and his ears were drawn to the sound of waves crashing. Aiden froze. Where am I, he thought and he whispered to himself; “I am so far from home.” In that moment he wanted to cry. There was absolutely nothing on this island, Aidan thought, only the void of humanity. Out of nowhere someone came out from behind the trees. She yelled, “Who’s there?” Behind her followed three other people. Aiden was scared. Who were these people and why were they all here? Dakota was the first to introduce herself. Behind her hid Matthew, Justin, and Elizabeth. “Do any of you know each other?” asked Elizabeth. Everyone looked at each other and whispered a low “no.” “Well,” said Justin, “let’s get to know each other. We might have to be here for a while, let’s become friends.” It was awkwardly silent. Everyone was uncomfortable with the presence of each other. They began to realize that their faces looked oddly familiar, as if they’d seen each other before. Each of them began to analyze one another. Aiden had a weird scar on his forehead, Dakota was wearing a donor bracelet, Matthew had a pacemaker peeking through his shirt, Justin was ordinary, and Elizabeth had an amputated foot. Strange enough, what made them different, was essentially what brought them together. It was beginning to get dark and they had nowhere to sleep, no food, and no water. This is it, Aiden thought, this is my last day on earth. The group began to argue. Dakota and Matthew wanted to split up and tour the island, Justin and Elizabeth wanted to build shelter, and Aidan wanted to dwell in his own thoughts. “If we’re being forced to live here, don’t you think we should know what we’re dealing with?” whined Dakota. Justin rolled his eyes and said, “wouldn’t you like to make it through the night first?” “Make it through the night?” Aiden yelled, “We can never survive!
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No one knows we’re here and we don’t even know why we’re here. Let’s face it we’re dying here whether we like it or not.” It was silent. Everyone was uncomfortable with the idea of dying. “Okay wise guy,” said Matthew, “then what do you suppose we do? Try and put together a conspiracy on why we’re all here? I’d rather waste my time on something else.” “Maybe we should just go to sleep and we can figure all this out tomorrow morning. I mean we have unlimited time on this island,” suggested Elizabeth. They began to clear out areas for rest space. Lying down on the sand, each of them thought about what the future would hold. They all fell asleep except for one— Aiden. He couldn’t stop thinking about the other strangers and his mind began to wander to the idea that they weren’t strangers after all. Maybe we’re all here for a reason, maybe we all know each other, he thought. The next morning there was a box lying on the sand a couple feet away from where everyone slept. Matthew ran towards it. “What is it Matthew?” yelled Dakota. “I don’t know Dakota, that’s what I’m trying to find out,” answered Matthew. “Well are you going to open it or are you just gonna keep looking at it?” yelled Justin from the sleeping grounds. “I don’t know,” said Aiden, “maybe we shouldn’t open it.” “Are you crazy?” argued Justin, “this is our one clue to getting out of here and you just want to ignore it?” Matthew struggled to open the box. He tossed it, stomped on it, and shook it and the box didn’t budge. He even inspected every inch, but nothing was written on it. Devastated and angered, Matthew punched the box. It opened, and from it flew a note. He ran to pick it up. “439” Matthew whispered. “What does it say!” yelled Elizabeth from back. “It’s a number” answered Matthew, “any significance to anyone?” 439 they thought. Each began to scan their brains for that number.
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What did it mean? What was that number going to do for them? Bring them freedom or bring them death? Later that day, Matthew went missing. The group searched for hours until dark. Nothing, they found nothing. Each one thought, am I next? “Well what do you guys think happened?” asked Aiden. “I don’t know, maybe he’ll resurface tomorrow morning,” said Elizabeth. “Someone definitely took him and there is no chance he is going to resurface tomorrow,” exclaimed Justin. “Who could have taken him?” trembled Dakota, “do you think this person is going to strike again?” “Let’s just go to sleep. We’ll figure it out tomorrow morning,” suggested Elizabeth They went to sleep and when they woke up the next morning, Dakota was missing. They searched the island the whole day and she was nowhere to be found. Aiden, Elizabeth, and Justin remained. “This is getting weird, I can’t do this,” said Elizabeth. “Yeah, me too. I don’t know how much longer I can put up with this,” said Justin. “What can we do to stop this?” asked Elizabeth. “Nothing,” said Aiden, “absolutely nothing.” It got silent. Everyone was lost in their thoughts. Would they be next? What did “439” mean? They went to sleep that night with heavy thoughts. Wondering when this would ever come to an end and wondering if they were going to wake up the next morning. To no one’s surprise, another went missing - Elizabeth. Justin and Aiden were devastated; they knew it was only a matter of time until one of them went missing. They searched the island for her and there was no luck. After searching for her, they spent the whole day staring at the sky. They gave up. This was it, within two days both of them would be missing without a trace. No one would have known what had happened to these five strangers. Aiden and Justin went to sleep accepting the fact that one of them would be gone by tomorrow morning.
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Aiden had a vivid dream that night. He was reliving a plane crash he had been through a couple years back. In his dream he saw Matthew, Dakota, Elizabeth, and Justin board the plane. “Flight 439,” the flight attendant said. Because of this plane crash Aiden had a scar on his head, Dakota became a blood donor, Elizabeth had an amputated leg, and Matthew had a pacemaker. Aiden jumped out of his dream. He just solved the mystery. “Justin! Justin!” he yelled. Aiden was too late, Justin had already been taken. Just when he finally knew why they were all there, he was left alone. What was Aiden supposed to do with this information? Who was he to go to? How was this going to help him? He cried and cried until the sun set and the stars came out. It was dark and Aiden knew the moment he fell asleep, he was never going to wake up. Five strangers, he thought; we were far from strangers. On that note he fell asleep and by next morning there was absolutely no one left on that island. Only the void of humanity.
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I Saw it On The News | Sarah Dagmy
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Crushing Fear | Carole Cohen
Resourced images, Photoshop
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The Flight
Ruthie Khaski My plane ticket was grabbed out of my hand and scanned. A part of me did not want to get on the flight because I knew that the plane was taking me home, back to reality. I took my seat, sandwiched between a young boy who looked like he was flying alone and my best friend Morgan. I was listening to my music and playing games on the T.V. screen when the flight attendant said, “Turn off your devices and get ready for takeoff.” We were leaving California and heading back to New York. I grabbed my friend Morgan’s hand as the plane flew into the sky. My heart dropped from shock. The flight barely even started and it was already bumpy. Finally, the light of the seatbelt sign went off and I was able to go walk around the plane to see my friends. We were all so sad that camp was over because we had so much fun, but at the same time we were tired of constantly moving around from hotel to hotel. In my mind I still was in shock that I was really leaving camp and that the summer was actually over. The seatbelt sign blinked on, signaling that everyone had to take their seats. I rushed back to my seat as I felt the plane go through some turbulence. I sat sandwiched in between Morgan and the young boy. Morgan said, “you should go to sleep; we still have another three hours until we land.” I shut my eyes because I was tired. I had been asleep for about thirty minutes when I woke up to my friend Morgan shaking me; “look at the young boy next to me.” I immediately opened my eyes and saw the boy having a seizure. I started to yell for help. Everyone stared, but no one helped. I had no clue what to do. No medical experience or history. I took the boy, laid him down across the aisle, and put him on one side. It was not easy because he was very heavy. The boy was unconscious, his body was stiff, and he was shaking non-stop.
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From the corner of my eye, I saw a man rushed down the aisle. He came up to me and started speaking Chinese. I started yelling “What? What?” but he didn’t understand. He motioned me to move away, but I didn’t understand at the time. He jumped over me, and began to perform CPR on the seizing boy. The pilot prepared for an emergency landing. The nearest airport that the pilot would be able to land in was in Michigan. A flight attendant tapped me and said, “You need to get to your seat and fasten your seatbelt for a rough quick landing.” I went to my seat, which was right near the boy and the Chinese doctor, and sat there in a daze. The plane landed in Michigan and all the passengers sat while the young boy was rushed off the plane. When it was finally time for me to get off, the flight attendants congratulated me for my bravery and quick thinking. Three weeks later, I started my third year of college. Before my trip, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to specialize in but today I’m sure. I’m pre-med and I want to become a doctor that works in the Emergency Room.
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Anu Nenatzeach | Betty Hidary
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Optics | Shelley Shamah
Acrylic paint
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LOVE
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Communication | Betty Hidary
iPhone, Photoshop
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It’s Easy to Forget Shira Simchon
It is easy to forget, the absurdity of love. A soul that waits for youto accompany them for the entirety of their lives. It is easy to forget That love can defy all reason, and against all discouragements. Yet you can’t let go. It is easy to forget the ones that love you, while you chase someone else’s someone. And when you meet inevitability, your loved ones have already drifted away. It is easy to forget, that there is one personout of the world full of peopleAnd they are meant for you.
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im cold as ice
but in the right hands, I'll melt.
Cold as Ice | Lilian Haddad
Ice, food colorant, iPhone , Canva
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The Past is Comfort Jonathan Shetrit
I keep looking to the past, Troubling myself about it. People say, You can’t keep dwelling on the past. The thing is, I use the past for comfort.
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Movemement | Sonya Bakst
Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Nature of the World Alan Shamah
Dear Creator, A wonderful earth created by you, With land of green and oceans of blue, A land with sunshine and clouds and glittering skys, Where many an animal runs and all the birds fly, Prosperity bountiful, Happiness unaccountable, A beautiful place to reside. But alas, the cold and the rain. The depression, the suffering and the pain. Despair, poverty, desolation, A world with crumbling foundations. Why does negativity have a place on the Earth, With many deaths negating all the wondrous birth. With pain that overshadows joy, And builders that fall subject to those who destroy, Is it because of a need for balance? For peasants in the streets even out kings in the palace, Is it with the wish that humans will rise, Above the destruction and become strong and wise Yet with despair humans can’t cope, But what will always conquer fear, is in fact, hope.
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Door to the Soul | Hanna Lazerowitz
Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Together in the shadows Joseph Esquenazi
Let them be as sharks always leaning in for the attack but never thinking twice I’d rather be a timid, quiet remora keeping to myself overthinking every decision. To be lurking in the shadows, avoiding the constant danger with my school, who protects me and makes sure I do think twice. To be quick and small, swimming through the dark halls of the ocean I’d rather be a fish who has a family than to be a shark who swims alone, than to be big and scary where I am a threat to all I’d rather be stealthy and unseen than targeted and seen. If I could decide, I’d rather be a timid, quick, and protected remora than a targeted shark.
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Missing Out | Rachel Sanders
Resourced images, Illustrator, Photoshop
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Eye_m Broken | Virginia Oved
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Swinging in Color | Eveleyn Tawil
Illustrator
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Dedication
Yahel Sabtaniy The people that don’t work but get the grades, the glory they keep going up, but you keep crumbling down It doesn’t matter what stage your at All that matters is the effort Dedication - hard work plus patients The sum of my sacrifices - worth waitin’ I’m passing one by one and to those people I´m wavin’ Because now I’m at the top - now you here what I been sayin’
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Spots of Love | Rochelle Hafif
iPhone, Photoshop
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The Plot of a Relationship Rose Fuchs
Relationships, They come and go, Like the waves of the ocean. Relationships can be the key to your heart, The missing piece to your puzzle, Finally completed by your significant other. Relationships, They can be more than happiness, They make your life complete. Relationships, They also cause heartbreak Making you not want to leave your bed, Make you cry yourself to sleep, Thinking your not good enough, But you are. You be the best version of yourself And that’s the key to success. Relationships may come and go, But there will always be someone out there for you Even when you think you’re not good enough and alone.
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Butterflies in my Stomach | Sonya Bakst
Acrylic on paper
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Flowers
Shelley Zebak Friends, like flowers in a field come and go with the passing wind. Flowers can grow, but soon wither and disappear sticking out from the whole field. Bright as a sunflower and If you are down, they bring you up, Until they fall. They can be there in the winter But, will grow in the spring. Flowers are not ordinary special and full of colors. Thanks to light they grow, They’re beauty prospering. Flowers are a need to life To heal all of the wounded Flowers love and care, A magic sits within.
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Sister | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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Brother | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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A New Reality
Stephanie Tarrab From the Perspective of a Shabbat candle A New Reality Seasons change Chapters end Flowers wilt I will remain Through stormy nights and summer sunsets I will be here Under the windowsill A witness A reminder The world turns Leaves fall And I, I just watch How things have changed Oh, how they’ve changed From generation To generation To generation These people The strangers in the dark They aren’t like those from years ago
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The new traditions Foreign culture Unfamiliar lifestyle Make me an artifact Put me on display But When my glow hits their cheeks When their eyes sparkle I see a mirror image of what once was Like wax My heart melts Feverish as ever
My tears shed- proof Living proof that they will come back They will always come back To how it once was
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Together | Amanda Zeitoune Canon Rebel
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Planet of Love | Sarita Esses
Resourced images, Photoshop
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Sisters | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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Daydreams Jem Hanan
In his palace, a king sits in splendor Or maybe a lord, or duke, or knight Or perhaps a simple peasant At a table set for three His mother’s lively humming His father’s tender pat Aromas of stew and euphoria And the final rays of sun Clinging to the window sill Reluctant to let go A slap And it brings him back Where he was not a giant, But just a little boy
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Carpe Diem | Grace Betesh
iPhone, food colorant, ice, Canva
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Desire
Natalie Ryba Desire, that is true and real, creates a respite from death. All timidity comes from not desiring, or having a desire, which is the same thing. One who is brave, able to look death and danger square in the face, can exist because they have desire. Whether it be desire for longevity, desire for health, desire for love, or desire for for friendship, anyone can drive off fear from their minds. What can be a short-lived flame, desire, must burn for eternity.
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The Sunset’s Journey - Album Cover | Marcelle Setton
iPhone, resourced images, Photoshop
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Lights Aligning | Amanda Zeitoune
Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Subway Car
Sarina Shalom Prompt: Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others. The brilliantly decorated creature captivated my eye with its shades of saffron and caviar. As I dumped a few pennies into the dixie cup held in the right hand of the veteran, I inched closer to the butterfly only to be blinded by oncoming headlights. With dry numbed fingers, I entered, allowing the Monarch to lead the way. “Stand clear of the closing doors please,” rang through my winter-frosted ears. Dragging my feet across the grimy floor, I plopped down on the light blue bench and conformed to the millennial norm - I stared down at my phone and pushed my earbuds in place. The raw sound of the acoustic guitar warmed me, when suddenly several teens in white tees and black caps hopped on with their retro boombox. A finger hit play and “Independent Women” by Destiny’s Child initiated their act. One performed a handstand before an old woman eating her oyster pail lo mein. Another flipped over a boy with his Spider-Man backpack while giggling something in Spanish. A black woman chimed in with fancy footwork. And a middle-aged man wearing a turban and a mustache gazed as another teen demonstrated neat hat tricks. In just moments, strangers fashioned an amiable spirit with communal “oohs and ahhs.” I was floored! Jaw dropped, I began to chuckle and mull over how much I didn’t know of the world around me. My family stems from a Middle Eastern background - my grandparents were born and raised in Egypt and my great grandparents originated in Syria. Growing up in a tight-knit community has its perks. Everyone takes care of one another and participates in local charities. Family is emphasized- many marry early and live just blocks away from where they grew up. I savor holiday meals for the traditional blends each flavor delivers. However, this was all my taste buds knew. Meeting new people was not the ordinary for me. Exploring cultures beyond our gates is often uncommon. And so, to say I was culture-awed on that subway would be an understatement. The food, languages, ethnicities, and clothing drew me closer. With an incredulous smile of disbelief, I pondered, “How fascinating is it that
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hundreds of cultures have developed since the beginning of time?” Though I took the subway to-and-from school, I simply never lifted my head, opened my eyes, and welcomed the beauty and intricacy of the world around me. This experience on that subway car was a realization of the greatness and limitations of my community. The cultural awakening that struck me kindled an open-minded philosophy. My brother has since introduced me to authentic Japanese food. I have attended classes on French pastry. I took Spanish courses in school and attempted French online. As I study my religion, I compare and contrast my beliefs with those of other theologies. And wherever I go, I query and engage with strangers. I’ve discovered people who cook with spices I’ve never heard of before, and others who play sports I’ve never played. Something as utilitarian as the New York City subway became more complex for me. Its noises, smells, and colors were no longer bland, but rather vivacious. That beautiful butterfly led me to a subway car that has taught me to spread my wings and see the wonders of the world. Now, whenever I step outside, my habits shift from isolation to curiosity and openness.
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Valuable | Frances Oved
Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Generations | Betty Hidary
Canon Rebel, Photoshop
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Lyrical | Shelley Shamah
Ballpoint pen
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A Rainy Day in Israel Lucy Allaham
I never liked the rain up until today As I walked to the Kotel in the pouring rain, With nothing but my umbrella I got to experience the comfort rain gives The falling rain felt as if it was a blanket, Forcing my family to come closer together
Terza Rima
Rochelle Hafif One starry night he approached her OK, he thought, tonight’s the night I’ll seem like an amauter He laid his thoughts outright While he mustered up the guts And hoped that something might ignite Well, thank God for that klutz Because it’s three years and 27 days later And they’re both preparing by getting haircuts He’s well beyond the days of dating her For now, they are standing under that same starry sky Waiting to get married from the minister As they’re leaving that night on a high She says, I’ll always love you, Eli
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The Whole Thing Together | Shelley Shamah iPhone
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Memories
Hanna Mishan Let them be as couches, always the center of laughter and fun but slowly being worn out by the same people. I’d rather be a dusty old recliner, filled with memories and smelling like broken in leather, like grandma’s chicken soup and blankets that she knitted. To have been passed down from generation to generation. To witness the growth of the little children that were once drowned by my leathery skin. To be gifted with an eternity of use, unlike the worn in couch that will easily be replaced once the laughter begins to tear holes in his skin. I’d rather be used by only one pure soul, than watch many people use me, and then forget about me. Friends that got replaced, family members that moved on. I’d rather be loved by one that will stay with me forever, and if then neglected by everyone else, than to be just a couple of cushions, where life just keeps on moving until the cushions can’t handle the pressure anymore. I’d rather be seen as aged and worthless, than lively and fun. If I could hold the precious memories of a thousand years, I’d rather be a dusty old recliner.
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Moody Emotions | Gaby Weinwurzel
iPhone, Photoshop
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Pegasus 2020 | Emotions
בית הספר התיכון של הישיבה דפלטבוש על שם מר יואל ברברמן Yeshivah of Flatbush Joel Braverman High School Al and Sonny Gindi Campus 1609 Avenue J, Brooklyn, NY 11230 www.flatbush.org