Jenna Lawrence | Managing Editor Image from Envato by Michelangeloop The passenger at the front of the train has been staring at me the entire ride. I’ve had my nose in my book, The Stranger  by Albert Camus, since I got on two hours ago, and that person has not looked away since. I tried looking out the window at the Alps to try to distract myself from my stalker. But the glare from the sun is so bad, the only thing I can see is my bald head and thick glasses in the reflecti

Mikayla Leskey | Arts and Entertainment Editor Beautiful red lighthouse at sunset with purple cloudscape. Marine evening background wallpaper. / Photo by 'Kawaii-S', licensed by Envato.com . I’m standing in a field of rotting flowers. Waves crashing beneath me, wind sweeping my hair, salt on its entrails. There’s a lighthouse in the distance, barely peeking through the fog, a guiding light to sailors and ships alike; begging for their safe return. It throws me back to snowto

Mikayla Leskey | Arts and Entertainment Editor A hand made puppet of cloth sitting on a soft cozy armchair, pink flowers on the first plan of a picture. / Photo by 'PedaltotheStock', licensed by Envato.com . I’m sorry for ever hating you. that I let other people's opinions warp my mind to the point where I couldn’t even speak of you without fear of being called a girly-girl. I didn’t want to be like other girls such a pre-teen fear wrought from misogynistic opinions—that I h

Julianna Concepcion | Opinion Writer All my best memories begin in our little apartment on Lebanon Avenue. The bright blue, picket-fenced house was trimmed in white, and the front yard was filled with flowers and tomatoes and herbs. These were all planted by our landlady who lived directly above us in the two-story colonial style “duplex.” My most formative years were spent here; from crawling up the couple of steps it took to get through the door to skipping down them in t

Mikayla Leskey | Arts and Entertainment Editor In our freetime, my best friend and I walk through cemeteries it’s weird to say aloud but it’s also one of our favourite things we joke and laugh, and maybe the ghosts are joining us we call it “grave hunting”  us searching for our favourite headstones  telling each other that’s the one we want when we die or i’ll stare up at a weeping Angel  telling him we’re getting one for our garden one day that it doesn’t matter if he’s watc

Julianna Concepcion | Staff Writer Recently in one of my courses, I was asked to read Elizabeth Acevedo's The Poet X. I found it to be riveting, culturally aware, and beautiful; the book felt so connected to music and Latin Caribbean culture; that my mind kept moving in the "musical" direction as I was reading it. So, I made a playlist! If you've read the book, it would make more sense. It's written in free verse poetry, making it a short, semi-easy read. I recommend! Norma

Julianna Concepcion | Staff Writer On August 28th of this year, Paramore singer Hayley Williams released her newest solo album, Ego Death at a Bachelorette Party . The album features various songs about love, struggle, and her past, but one track that has been stirring up conversation on social media called “True Believer” shifts away from the other songs, directly calling out hate and hypocrisy.   Motifs of Southern Christianity, Greed, and Racism “True Believer” seems to

Julianna Concepcion | Staff Writer I am jealous of other girls. But not in the way you might think—I am proud to be me in certain ways, but I wish I could wake up at five in the morning and go on five-mile runs, or sit down with a group of gals pretty as me and watch cutesy shows on repeat with Ben and Jerry’s ice cream that won’t change the number on my scale.   I wish I had the money to get highlights in my hair every four weeks and touch up my roots or go on hauls where

Alexander Hewes | Contributing writer He sees the grey sky, the one that brings tear drops. As he sees the tower of time, the pillar...

Lydia Sieczkowski | Contributing Writer A needle hums where your name once lied Tracing over wounds that not even time can erase. The...

Lydia Sieczkowski | Contributing writer I used to savor days with your smile, Like sugar in my tea, warm and wild. We shared the...

Lydia Sieczkowski | Contributing Writer You can block me... Act like I don't exist... Lie about me and who I am... Blame me for...

Mackenzie Sheldon | Opinion editor She loves  to write. She paces around her room, figuring out how to phrase the last sentence. She...

Anonymous | Expressions I miss this feeling. Shivers without being cold. Vunrablily and sensitivity showing up as goosebumps all over my...

Jason Kohl | Contributing Writer Gary Lee Price’s Circle of Peace (1999) is a striking public sculpture at Eastern Connecticut State...

Malek Allari | Staff Writer When the sky is clear, and even the angels can be seen with the naked eye, a man stands in the middle of...

Mackenzie Sheldon | Contributing Writer Writing brings forth every feeling your brain had been protecting you from. It releases lost...

Paige Stegina | Managing Editor Freepix / anetkisart As the sun rose that morning above the world’s earth and forests, deep ocean and...

Malek Allari | Editor-In-Chief I puffed it out. I saw the smoke rise into the sky. I looked around to see if anyone saw the cloud coming...

by Fernando Jeronimo