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Quetzal | University of Waterloo’s Online Arts Magazine2019-11-17T16:01:16-05:00

Photography

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Poetry & Prose

Remember Your Punctuation

Remember Your Punctuation

By Ashu M. G. Solo

Anxious Wings

Anxious Wings

by Jack Gao

All my life I wanted freedom;

to be rid of the orders, rules and schedules.

For as far as I remember, school was my chain, parents, my ball.

I yearned for the freedom to do as I wished, how I wished, and when I wished;

no more orders, rules or schedules.

Undo the ambitions caged, spirit locked, and wings clipped.

Yet,

here I am, standing before the gate,

finally,

with the vast, boundless sky ahead of me, blue with the depth of infinite possibilities;

with the hymns of liberation serenaded by the chorus of adulthood;

with the promise of freedom finally fulfilled.

The future beckons invitingly, but why am I afraid to fly?

I Keep Forgetting

I Keep Forgetting

By Shruti Pankaj Bagmar

What The Ads Don’t Tell Her

What The Ads Don’t Tell Her

by Ashley Nicolas

Tell her she’s pretty.
Tell her often, tell her always.

Shout it to the mountains and whisper it in her ear when
You exchange your goodnights.
The world is always telling her that she needs to
Be skinnier and thicker in all the right places, and only the right places.
The magazines tell her that her hair should be glossier, and
The commercials shout that her face should be clearer, and
The bus ads tell her that her smile ought to be whiter.

So tell her, too, that her soul is not pretty.
It is beautiful, because pretty is only
Skin deep and ends when you hit the bone.
And when you hit the bone, this is the point where
They say we’re all the same.

But please, tell her that her soul is different,
Because it is.
Tell her that you know it’s lighter and
Heavier
At the same time, and that you know it takes joy in the little things but dwells on the bad.
Tell her that you feel it too, feel the pain each day that you get it
Wrong
And the happiness that comes when you get it right.

And tell her that when you say “it,”
You really mean “everything.”
Tell her that you’ve been strung along in the past, too,
And that you wouldn’t dream about doing the same to her.
And tell her she’s pretty.

Why Don’t You

Why Don’t You

Jess Van De Kemp

Society’s Disability

Society’s Disability

By Ashu M. G. Solo

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Visual Arts

Short Stories

Summer in the Suburbs

Summer in the Suburbs by Erin Taylor I‘m on my leadoff from second base when a girl shows up and leans against our dugout fence. I pause, trying to make out who it is, before I hear the scuffle of the backcatcher's shin guards as she jumps up and my coach screams, "Morris! Down!" So I dive face-first under the sweeping glove and slap the tips of my fingers on the bag. Our cleanup batter brings me home. Coach Jen hesitates, tells me to look, then run. She knows I have a good slide. I scoop up the bat and hustle back to the dugout, grinning and dusting off my batting gloves on my shorts. Annette is standing on the other side of the fence, behind my teammates, the fingers of her left hand hooked in the chain links. I shriek and jump on the bench. There’s a commotion by third and my teammates all rise. I reach her through the fence. I’m shouting, "You're back!" She’s laughing and nodding, and then she looks over my shoulder. "They need you out there, Sarah." I look back. Everyone has taken the field. "Can you stay?" "I'll be here." [...]

Confessions of A Creative Woman

Confessions of a Creative Woman by Tasnia Nasar It’s the top skill discussed in an interview, the ability most highlighted in my resume, and the characteristic I’m most known for by my friends and family. I laugh at my own Instagram captions and marvel at how witty my tweets are. I take an extra 20 minutes to make my meals look presentable only to eat it a few seconds later. The stationary section at Chapters is like my Disneyland and overpriced lattes are my chardonnay. If I just told your life story, you my friend, are creative. We’re often misunderstood. We’re often ‘self-employed’. But we’re also a lot of other things. So it’s time I sat down and confessed why we are– the way we are. Our life is an organized chaos I have a laptop case in my purse without a laptop in it. I have a wallet too, but my debit and credit cards are usually in the side pockets. When I’m hungry, I indulge in the smell of gum wrappers and dig through to find a few tangerines…at least that’s what they used to be.  Give me a ring while my phone is in [...]

New Beginnings

 New Beginnings by Edward Liu It was a troubling time. Seventeen years into life; too many left until the end of my days. “Too many indeed.” What was that voice? “It’s me! You’ve known me for awhile now.” What were those thoughts I didn’t want circulating through my head? “I have feelings too, you know?” What were those disheartening memories? “She only broke up with you a few months ago! You couldn’t have already forgotten.” I hadn’t forgotten, but I had tried to. “I miss her.” I missed her too, but I could not afford to miss her. I could not afford to think about her any longer. “That’s impossible. We will practically see her everyday. With him.” It didn’t matter. I had to work my way around it. I willed myself to, “Yeah, okay. Good luck with that.” I had to somehow make it through my final year of high school with two unwanted parties tagging along with me, holding me back. It was a difficult task, and I attempted to accomplish it through willpower alone for a small while. “You tried your best for two months. It just wasn’t meant to be.” Two months was approximately [...]

Understand Me

Understand Me By Eunice Adubea Owusu Amoah Was he dead? Or was he alive? His skin felt warm and flushed all over. Was he dying? Or was he still in love? Something warm and sticky was in his hand. Blood. His? Hers? A face appeared before him. Someone screaming his name. Or maybe just screaming. Screeches of fear. Or pain. Or surprise. Was it her? Was she beside him? Screaming for him to stay alive? Or screaming at him to just die? He didn’t deserve to die, he thought. She was the one who broke him. He thought of the day they met. “Boo,” she whispered. He quickly spun around to face her. His chin brushed against her short, wet, spiky hair. He looked down at her and she looked up at him. Two complete strangers who had fatefully met in a cemetery on a rainy night.   There was an ambulance. His thoughts begged for the siren to be shut. He was trying to remember. What had she been wearing? Had she smiled? No. She’d laughed though. Yes she’d- The siren. The stupid siren. Too fucking loud. She’d laughed. He’d stared at her in that beautiful [...]

It Started with a Whisper

It Started with a Whisper by Edward Liu Why are you still alive?” I remained silent. “You didn’t jump that day. Why didn’t you jump?” “Because I was afraid of not dying,” I said. “You didn't choose a tall enough building.” “There's always a slim chance of survival. How would I jump again if I somehow survived with every bone in my body shattered? Repeating the task would be near impossible,” I said, but that wasn't all there was to it. Thinking about suicide is simple. Initiating the act was a whole other story. At least for me. Why was I still alive? I wondered that myself. It was almost a year since the lowest point of my life. What had I accomplished since then? ■ ■ ■ It started with a whisper almost four years ago, a small voice in the back of my head. “This is bad,” it said softly as I stared at my score on the math test I had just been handed. “I’ll make up for it,” I said. Mathematics was my best subject growing up. I liked math. It was the only thing which I felt like I excelled in. My [...]

A Spoken Word

A Spoken Word by Muhammad Zaid Bin Amer Hey My name is Muhammad Zaid Bin Amer. You may have heard of me And to be quite frank I’m not always 100% sure I’m spelling Muhammad right. Is it M u, M o, I don't know- it's confusing. I was born on June 21st 1999, in some ghetto army base within Peshawar, a small city in Pakistan. This is widely been regarded as a terrible idea Now see the reason I wasn’t born in a regular hospital is that we were on the way to the airport, leaving Pakistan as refugees because of some bad business my parents have never went into because they just love keeping secrets This just goes to show, people wanted me dead even before I was born I’m often terrible at staying quiet, being loud and shattering the solid silence, I mean what can I say I was born sleeping and have been messed up ever since I like coca-cola Alot I go to The University of Waterloo I’m in first year and I still don't have my drivers license And for as long as I can remember I’ve loved cheap food... and bad [...]

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