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Quetzal 2020 | University of Waterloo’s Online Arts Magazine2020-07-15T15:02:06-04:00

Photography

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Poetry & Prose

The Little Lonely Cell by Jonathan Yang

There once was a cell that was all on its own. There was no one around and it felt so alone. With no one around it could do nothing but cry. That’s when one day he gave a big sigh. He said “No longer will I hide and run”. “It’s [...]

Perception

Perception by Varun Batta Always thinking against it Despite all the praise Always thinking otherwise No matter what they all say Receiving compliments all the time Searching for the flaws I perceive Listening to them with a thankful smile Yet never will I actually believe These thoughts [...]

Why Don’t You

Why Don't You Jess Van De Kemp Why don’t you pay tribute to the days that are in between? Now’s your chance to be someone new, brand spanking, no problem that can kill you. I find hope in a stairwell, reaching a place I always reach for, [...]

Sugar

Sugar by Hannah Tellier have you ever noticed how many songs are about sugar? until you became the sweetest part of my life neither had i i wish that i knew what to say to you how to call you mine you said pumpkin was alright [...]

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Visual Arts

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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 [...]

“Plucked” by Aniqah Beharry

Plucked by Aniqah Beharry “Is it really that bad?” Is it? Media doesn’t hesitate to portray the violent plucking of petals from flowers,  The poor unsuspecting flowers, no matter their brightness or scents, Any species can be picked from the stems from which they were so once comfortably, naïvely swinging in the breeze. Everyone loves flowers, different kinds for different reasons,  Some feel entitled to flowers but don’t understand that these flowers grew on their own and aren’t theirs to take.  From a little girl to years later, when I’m now a university student, they all still argue.  I’ve grown up in a society that blames flowers for being picked because they’re too pretty, because they were in a place they shouldn’t have been, because they were too bright, because they did this and that and this and that and this and that.  A lot of people ridicule and hold the flower culpable for what happens to them.  But I’d never heard this one before, “Is it really that bad?” Is it really that bad?  Is it really that bad? Is it really that bad? Is it? Is it bad? Is it fair? Is it unfair? When [...]

One Dance

One Dance She’s fucking Alexander, Theo reminded himself. He was standing by the bar, waiting to order a rye and coke. His gaze was directed towards the dance floor where he spotted Lily and Emma in the crowd. The rest of the crew seemed to have disappeared into the pulsing array of flesh, the other guys each on their own personal mission to get some. Usually, Theo would be on his own personal mission to get some, but whenever Lily came out with them, he couldn’t help but not care. For some reason, he just wanted to be around her. He didn’t want to think about it too deeply beyond that and he made sure to remind himself every now and then that she was sleeping with one of his closest friends. Theo finally inched his way to the front of the line. The busty bartender gave him a sultry smile and asked, “What can I get for you, sweetie?” “I’ll have a shot of whiskey and rye and coke...make it a double,” Theo replied. She punched in his order on the register. She poured the shot of whiskey and handed it to him. He took the shot [...]

“The Time Twister” by Suhana Kumar

The Time Twister Suhana Kumar Published Spring 2020 ` Sarajevo, 1914 The air was smokey, clusters of particles floating through as if time had stopped. Maybe, in a way, time did stop, and it was as if the streets of Sarajevo knew something was going to happen. Or, as they say, the calm before the storm. He woke up at precisely 6:30, and dragged himself out of bed to dress. He had to look his best, today was the big day. He grabbed the letters that piled on the broken side-table and shoved them into his coat pocket, and finally, retrieved a gun from his closet and putting it in his inside coat pocket. The boy looked into the dirty mirror at his shorn hair as he covered his demons with a cap. What did I get myself into? But you promised me. So why does it feel wrong? His long, unkempt bangs fluttered in his face as he tugged on his cap, stepping out into the streets. He doesn’t know why he was feeling so self-conscious, living in Sarajevo meant that you were a nobody. A nobody… It took him 15 minutes to reach [...]

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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