Haiku Kukai 01 Favorites
Global Haiku • Millikin University • Fall 2020
1 monkey brain Spencer Avery ••••• |
2 empty tea can Spencer Avery ••• This haiku made me think of the perfect Saturday morning, where the temperature is a cool 60 and you have all the free time in the world. You go into the kitchen, still sleep walking with grogginess, and take a tin canister down from the top shelf. The moment the seal releases a waft of fragrant herbs and spices hits your nose. An instant rush of adrenaline and dopamine. As the tea is brewing you contemplate the rest of the day's activities, until you hear that final stream of water enter your mug. With tea brewed, cup in hand, and the impatience to let it cool you take that first sip, catapulting your taste buds to different heights and your mind into another dimension. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
3 leaving at last Stark Winter • This haiku is a lovely way of seeing a person who wants so badly to leave but something is holding them back. I imagine that they are finally leaving home to live on their own, but they don't want to leave their family. I relate to this because I enjoy my life at school and the independence it brings, but I do get homesick for my family a lot. The juxtaposition in this haiku comes in emotions for me. Rebecca Murphy, Fall 2020 |
4 a suit, a dress Stark Winter •••• I absolutely love this poem because it perfectly explains how foolish gender roles are. I have struggled with my identity for a lot of my life. I only became comfortable with myself when I realized nothing on the outside could define what's on the inside. I love dressing up and pretending to be different people in theatre. It's fun. But, at the end of the day, I can take off the costume and still be who I am. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 |
5 first year students Stark Winter ••• I thought this haiku had such a cool image. As a senior who lived in Dolson, it just makes me imagine how hard it must be to be a first year right now. It is already hard enough being a freshman and having to make new friends at a new school all over again. I can't fathom having to do so only through technology. One of my favorite things about my freshman years was getting to walk across the hall and into different rooms...I wish freshman this year got to have that experience. I just hope they all like their roommates! Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
6 itchy eye Spencer Avery •• Speaking as someone who has worn glasses for the majority of their life, I cannot begin to explain how many times I've had to clean my glasses. I tend to notice when even small specks are on the lenses, logically I'd have a lot of experience cleaning them. I feel that this captures the essence of a long night working away at homework - crappy fluorescent bulbs buzzing overhead, face buried in textbooks and laptop screens, trying to work through whatever headache had been assigned that week. Hoping that the cleaning of the glasses can help clean the mindset too. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
7 a baptism into womanhood Mara Currens ••••• •••• 9 (1st place) |
8 chicken noodle Sydney Griggs ••• Even though we didn't really eat chicken noodle at home, this haiku does remind me of my house. It could be the smell of food my mom was making when I got home from school. Perhaps it is just because the author included the word home. However I was taken out of that memory as soon as I read the third line. He is destroying it? I feel like this is so great because we don't really know what he is destroying. Of course the Haiku implies that he is destroying the noodle, but what if he is actually destroying "home"? Is he physically destroying everything inside a house while someone cooks noodles or are they having a heated discussion? I think I will not get to a definitive answer (I like to think he is destroying the noodles though, even if it makes me hungry (no bueno)) Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, Fall 2020 |
9 sunset drive Sydney Griggs ••••• • 6 (honorable mention) I picture a suburban neighborhood, fairly quiet, with the houses lined up along a nice, straight street. The sky is a gorgeous mix of pinks, oranges, yellows, and a little bit of just normal blue sky. The colors make the clouds look like tufts of cotton candy. It's absolutely breathtaking. A teenage girl (sophomore-senior in high school) gets into her red sedan that's parked in the driveway, but takes her time, because she's admiring the incredible sunset. She closes the door, starts the car, backs out of the driveway, and starts to slowly roll down the street (again, she's admiring the gorgeous sunset). She's so fixated on the sunset that she doesn't notice the boy a few houses down who's had a crush on her for years. He's standing in his driveway, watching her the way she's watching the sunset, thinking to himself, “what do I have to do to get you to look at me the way you look at that sunset?” It's such a beautiful but sad story that's told in so few words, and I love it. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 |
10 hey, what if . . . Sydney Griggs ••••• I really like the childhood reminiscence in this one. I feel like unfortunately the idea of love letters has turned into something associated with childhood and trivial crushes instead of more mature infatuations and relationships. That feeling is only compounded by the use of a crayon. I also like how it implies the sort of vulnerability and innocence that comes with love, especially in the early stages of a relationship. I also like the ellipses which implies a sort of hesitation that may come with broaching a more emotionally intimate stage of a relationship. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 I just think this haiku is fun. I like the ellipses is the beginning; I think it sets up the tone nicely. And the crayon part comes right out of the blue! I wasn't expecting that. It gives me whimsical vibes for some reason. I want to know the backstory of this haiku. It is quite intriguing. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 I really loved this haiku for its mature take on a childish crush. Originally, reading this haiku sent me back to elementary school and developing crushes on boys in my class. The innocence of what we all thought was “love” was so simple and pure. Now love is sometimes very complex and challenging. Rereading it, however, it reminded me of my boyfriend who can act very childish. This seems like the type of thing he would do, so this haiku brought me joy. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 This haiku made me feel “warm,” to put it in terms Alex Miller uses when he talks about how we feel when doing an acting piece. I love how the first and second lines of the poem build, and then the third line is a sort of surprise ending. After reading the first and second lines, my first reaction was “awwww!” and I got all the warm fuzzy feelings inside. And then I read the last line, “in crayon,” and at first it made me laugh, and then it made me smile. I was thinking about how clunky and kind of broken up crayon lettering looks. It's hard to make small print using a crayon simply because of the nature of a crayon. So while the love letter I imagined from line 2 is written on off-white paper in a black ink pen, this love letter is written on printer paper with a lime green crayon and the letters are big and clunky and don't look very pretty. To me, the image of a love letter written in crayon represents innocence and youthfulness, as if the author is saying, “Love is hard. If we pretended to be kids who aren't burdened with all the stuff we're burdened with as college students, do you think it'll be easier?” Overall, I think the whole poem is really sweet. There's something about it that hits just the right spot. Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020 The ellipses in this poem really caught me at the beginning because it gives off a vibe of nervousness and overthinking. It really fits with the person in the poem wanting to "write you a love letter" because feelings and attraction are scary. Whereas you'd expect a love letter to be on fancy stationary in ornate cursive written with a fountain pen, the final line, "in crayon" destroys all those expectations, and yet connects so well. I love that the writing instrument of choice is crayon because for one, it is playful and fun and brings the ease of childhood back into the picture, but it also makes me relate to the sentiment because when you confess your love for someone, it often feels ineloquent and like you can't find any words that seem right. Hence why it's in crayon and not written with a fancy pen. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 |
11 every man I see must Mara Currens ••••• This poem speaks to me as an idealist. I fall in love with every person I see and imagine our life together in the span of three seconds. This has been my way of being since I first became a teenager and realized that people could like me back. Although, usually my fantasies are not reciprocated. You might be surprised to learn that a complete stranger is not in mutual agreement about undying love simply because of eye contact. I am however. When someone looks my away across the coffee shop, I'm instantly sure it means they are in absolute love with me. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 |
12 then the world fell apart Mara Currens ••••• • 6 (honorable mention) This piece, quite literally, is breath-taking. By the time I reach the second line, I find my breath hiding away in my lungs. I can feel the tension lurking behind every word. There also is a somewhat strong sense of hopelessness and despair. Everyone is left watching in horror as everything crumbles to dust, unable to do anything to stop it. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 This haiku makes me think of everything in our country and in the world that's going wrong or has already gone wrong, especially within the past 6 months. I think of things like the COVID-19 pandemic and how the US has confirmed over 6 million cases and over 100,000 deaths. I think of the sudden surge in momentum the #BlackLivesMatter movement has gained recently and how people are speaking out against the injustices that are present in our system, especially in law enforcement. And I think about the upcoming 2020 presidential election, and how so many people are so desperate to vote another president into office so that we can save our democracy and start on a road towards actual human decency and moral and ethical policies. For me, the lines “we held our breath // as we watched” convey a sense of horror, shock, and disbelief as the author and whomever they're with watch as the world goes up in flames (that's at least what I picture: the entire globe just engulfed in fire and smoke until there's nothing left). Bryn Sentnor, Fall 2020
|
13 his smile Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez •••• I really liked this haiku because it speaks to me in volumes of everything morbid that is going on in the world right now. The amount of deaths caused by the pandemic is nothing to be looked at so casually. Not to mention the fact that people are dying in solitude and their family can't even hold a funeral for fear of contraction. It is all too sad, and this haiku really captures the essence of that melancholy. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 |
14 setting sun Binny Tamang ••• |
15 pure mathematics— Binny Tamang • 15 was especially resonant with me as I am a Math major, and I think it really captures the strange, contradictory nature of mathematics at a conceptual level. As much as one can understand it, it's at such a level of abstraction that you can never truly grasp mathematical concepts in any concrete way. The use of the word pure is interesting, too, as pure mathematics is the most abstract form of the discipline, while the word pure also conjures imagery of some kind of pristine mathematical form, which can't be grasped in any real way, which I think is a perfect allegory for how we learn mathematics. Shannon Whittington, Fall 2020 |
16 back to school again |
17 stuck in a roundabout Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez •• |
18 three generations |
19 small world Binny Tamang • |
20 skip-bo could be fun Sophia Zinger • |
21 paws jump on my back Sophia Zinger •• My imagined response to this haiku immediately took me back home to my oldest cat named Lolo Jones. As a kitten she was quite rambunctious but despised all affection. However, as she grew older, and fatter, she really began to warm up to all of us in the family. On days that I was dragged down by exhaustion I could always count on her to lay down with me to cuddle. Often when I go to sleep at night, I hear a distant creaking of the door and within seconds paws stepping carefully around looking for the best place to lay down. The second line is where the similarities cease, because when Lolo wants to speak it is opposite of soft meow in the ear. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
22 packing for college |
23 a chocolate pride parade Bryn Sentnor • I really like this haiku. I'm not quite sure what the first line means. Maybe they are making a cake? For the pride parade? They're proud of chocolate? They're putting chocolate in their homemade challah? That's probably it. That makes me think about making challah in religious school growing up. It also makes me think about my grandfather, who I also called Papa, who had a sweet tooth. Just goes to show how art can resonate. Sophia Zinger, Fall 2020 |
24 it's already August Bryn Sentnor ••••• I relate to this one a lot. Quarantine has been, and still is, making it so much harder to get motivated to do anything. I had all of these plans for this summer and projects and things I wanted to do, but alas here we are. I feel like I have a checklist with thirty items on it and only four or five checkmarks. I hate how sluggish these last few months have made me feel. It also doesn't help that it is now September and no longer August. Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 I like this haiku as I strongly relate to it. Even though we had lots and lots of time to do lots and lots of stuff, I feel like I was able to accomplish anything at all. Of course I did productive things during this prolonged break, but I still feel empty about it. The strong first line of this haiku was one of the things that caught my eyes. "it's already august". I feel like it is saying HEY DOOD time's passing. Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, Fall 2020 |
25 go inside, march Grant Unruh •••• This haiku spoke volumes about the passage of time through quarantine. The change from indoors to outdoors is so quick it really reminded me of how time passed so quickly outside of quarantine. The capitalization also really spoke to me. The months of March and September not being capitalized symbolized to me how fake and not real this time has seemed. Capitalizing them normally would make them seem too normal and like nothing happened. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 |
26 virus Grant Unruh •••• |
27 pandemic Grant Unruh ••••• ••• 8 (2nd place) This poem not only shows great juxtaposition in the way it's presented, but it represents quite possibly the greatest moment of juxtaposition in my life. I got far, far, far, far, FAR more than I bargained for when I left for spring break. We were VERY ill prepared for coronavirus, and this shows just how poor the response was. Sadie Scott, Fall 2020 |
28 3 different stores Danica Brezovar • With everything that has been happening in the pandemic, I expected "the essential supply" to be something for cleaning or eating, but no. It's a Lightning McQueen backpack, which seems so trivial to the adults in us who need food and textbooks and other expensive things specific to our majors, but it also brings back the joy that I felt when I was in elementary school and trying to find the perfect backpack that had my favorite animal on it. It's so specific too, with what is on the backpack. It made me think of a seven-year-old finally finding the cool Lightning McQueen backpack that someone in his class had and now he finally gets to have it after going through three whole boring stores with his mom. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 |
29 spring break Danica Brezovar ••••• |
30 black cold sky |
31 her eyes jade eyes Gwen Klinkey •• |
32 he watches me |
33 lain on pillows Gwen Klinkey •••• I relate to the dragon here, cozying myself inside my hoard, wrapped in warm blankets and soft pillows on my bed. As a child, I would spend my free time reading books (mostly fantasy), and I always felt like the stories were my treasure. Books and pillows are analogous to a dragon's hoard here, and being comparable to a mighty dragon would make a younger me very happy indeed. The warmth, the solitude, and the smugness of knowing that I have everything I could possibly want really is draconic, and it all comes across in this poem. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 |
34 first day countdown |
35 wiggling caterpillar |
36 i sit in the back seat Micky McNaughton ••• |
37 tufts of fur Maggie Kusar ••••• • 6 (honorable mention) This haiku struck a bit too close to home for me. My family had to put our dog in a kennel service as we were packing and moving me to college this year since nobody would be able to take care of her. Once she was no longer at home, it truly became apparent just how much she contributed to the atmosphere and to our family. Even if it was just lounging around the house, we'd still know she was there and we could still go and give affection to her. Additionally, I lost an older dog back in spring of this year, and this haiku absolutely reminded me of that. Something as mundane as shedded fur can take on a whole different meaning once it's something left behind. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 This haiku made me tear up. As someone with two dogs, I find tufts of fur on me and around me all the time. It is usually a nuisance. The first line made me feel fondly annoyed at my dogs. The second line is more ominous and made me rethink. After the third line I was in pain. I had to put my first dog down when I was in middle school. It's still one of the worst things I have ever gone through. I found my dog's fur for weeks after she was gone and I expected her to be at the door waiting for me when I came home but she never was. This haiku does a beautiful job of illustrating what it looks like to lose a dog. Rebecca Murphy, Fall 2020 |
38 waiting to wear Micky McNaughton • |
39 cigarette perfume Micky McNaughton ••••• This haiku was so full of imagery! I could smell the old, cigarette smell that is imbued in objects and feel the crisp page with variations in texture from the stains from an old book. It also brought back a lot of memories of my great-grandma's house. The idea of a cigarette perfume was really wonderful because we often associate people with specific types of perfumes or scents. A cigarette perfume is also different for each person because the smoke smell mixes with the other scents in that area. To me, that image is so powerful and is different for everyone. Danica Brezovar, Fall 2020 |
40 I see your eyes crinkle Sadie Scott ••• With the relevance of this message, this was an easy favorite of mine. While reading I pictured myself walking by a familiar face and attempting to convey that spark of recognition, only to realize a mask covers my smile. Then I start to wonder if they understood I was smiling or if my exposed face was interpreted as indifferent or hostile. When we wear masks, we lose the connection that a smile can make between friends or complete strangers. Although we may try to crinkle our eyes in replacement of a true smile, there will always be the uncertainty that under the mask is anything but happiness. Emily Kemp, Fall 2020 |
41 how strange Sadie Scott •••• Personally, I just think if people undressing others with their eyes. I feel so vulnerable any time I'm in a public place with older men who look down at me. I'm a pretty small woman, 5' 3”, and I know how easy it is for someone to throw me over their shoulder and take me away if they wanted to. It is a fact I live with. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing. I could be wearing a bathing suit, jeans and a t-shirt or a winter coat and predators will still be predators. Women are trained to dress modestly to stop rapists from doing what they do. It doesn't work. It's strange how the things we are taught to keep us safe are so wrong. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 |
42 I see him on a screen Sadie Scott •••• This haiku really just brings a lot of memories from middle school back to me, from the middle of my boy crazy phase. But beyond that it is something that still happens when I watch movies and TV shows (which I love to do). I guess I would call myself a romantic because it's so easy for me to see someone on a screen and immediately fall in love. I think that it's a very interesting thing to experience the repeated feelings of an unrequited love in quick succession, and this haiku made me take an outside look at my tendencies. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 |
43 spotted from afar Spencer Avery • |
44 suburban sunset walk Rebecca Murphy • |
45 masks up! Micky McNaughton ••• |
46 the dogs are happier Rebecca Murphy • |
47 problems of morality Rebecca Murphy •••• This imagery brought me back to freshman year. My roommate and I would sit on the floor on a Friday night with our Dominoes order – paid in Flex. We would sit there with our pizza and cheeses bread, joking about how she's lactose intolerant. We'd sit there and try to make reading through papers on Utilitarianism bearable, trying to read faster so we could put on the next episode of Queer Eye on Netflix. This haiku brought me to a very specific memory to a simpler and more fun time. Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 |
48 little stars Sadie Scott •• |
49 grandma's namesake Binny Tamang ••• |
50 the missing piece |
51 Indian Summer |
52 he hands her Binny Tamang •• This haiku made me picture a young couple watching movies together on a cold night in the fall, and the girl has been wanting to choose something to watch next but her boyfriend refuses to give her the remote, so she pouts and gives him puppy dog eyes until he finally gives in and lets her pick one. The sadness was all fake, only to get what she wanted, but it's all in good fun. I can picture the sad pout leaving her lips in an instant as she snatches the remote and laughs, turning back toward the TV to scroll through and find that sappy romantic comedy she's been bugging her boyfriend to watch with her for weeks. He keeps looking at her as she searches, and even as he complains, "No! Why did I let you pick?" he's smiling and he will willingly sit through a sappy movie because he still gets to spend time with her. Maggie Kusar, Fall 2020 |
53 subtle lights Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez •• |
54 body heat warms |
55 storm of anger Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez • |
56 empty nest Emily Kemp • This haiku makes me think of my mother after I left for college. My dad took me leaving pretty well and it didn't really bother him, my mom, however, took it much harder. My mom and I have always been really close, but we really bonded over quarantine with both of us being home so much. I know my mom is going to have to take some time to adjust to me not being home. I moved out for freshman year and she did okay then, but I think this time is going to be harder for her. |
57 smiling faces Bryn Sentnor • I like the sparks of positivism this haiku has. I don't like seeing every negative thing about this pandemic, as that only helps to sadden the world. The thought of smiley people doing what they have to do makes me feel warm and, as the haiku reads, safe. Even though I can't see the smiles because of the face mask, I can for sure picture the wrinkles around the eyes, which translate to thoughts of happiness. Adrian Sanchez Rodriguez, Fall 2020 |
58 there she sits |
59 sneakers laced up Emily Kemp • For a couple months now, I've been running every other morning, with the goal of feeling better about myself after quarantine. It's been working; I'm stronger and faster than ever before, but at what cost? I don't really get runner's highs, so the idea of being subservient to a timer rather than your own will matches very closely with my experience. I enjoy that there is no punctuation in this poem, and that there's a certain rhythm to it. I'm not accustomed to running yet, so I have to very consciously think about my pace and breathing, just like this haiku seems to do. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 |
60 friends family and faith |
61 falling leaves Maggie Kusar ••• I really love this haiku! I like the idea of the curtain falling as a representation as an ending and culmination of time. I can almost see the seasons being represented as a four-act play. Summer is coming to an end, and with the leaves falling is like the last nail in the coffin. I also like the combination of the use of the word fall because while leaves fall, another common phrase is 'the curtain falls.' Kyle Jordan, Fall 2020 The imagery in this piece is incredibly calming. I imagine an open area of grass, an arrangement of yellow and orange leaves gliding to the ground. The air is slowly getting colder as winter approaches. There is a note of finality in the haiku as they refer to the curtain of leaves as the end of an act. Describing it in such a way makes the haiku seem almost bittersweet. Sydney Griggs, Fall 2020 61 is a great representation of the changing of seasons, and in a subtle way too. The imagery of the falling leaves is an obvious visual signifier for the coming of Autumn, but how it's used as a parallel to the concept of the act in theatre is a nice way of portraying the time spent in a season. While the curtain falling to signify the end of an act is a barrier that actively segments the story, the leaves falling act more as a subtle motion, pushing time forward as they move, and so to contrast these two images gives a sort of rounded view of how the segments of time can be separated, but that they can smoothly transition as well. Shannon Whittington, Fall 2020 |
62 concrete steps Maggie Kusar ••• 62 may be my absolute favorite of the Kukai, and while I may be slightly biased in favor of haikus that are more imagery-heavy, I think 62 also has a layer of metaphor that makes it more than just a visual piece. It opens with the concrete steps, commonly understood to be harsh, cold, angular objects. This leads into the porch light, which, while slightly more inviting than concrete, porch lights are usually rather dim and are more commonly understood to be almost intimidating than warm. Yet, in the last line the porch light "replaces the sun", assumedly as the sun sets. Despite the almost creepy nature set up in the opening lines, the way the light is likened to the sun as night falls gives it a sort of nostalgic significance, where like the sun it acts as a hopeful object, keeping one warm and full of life. Shannon Whittington, Fall 2020 I enjoy this haiku because it reminds me of home. I love the time of the evening when the sun is almost fully set and the porch lights on my block come on. It is a lovely shift into the nighttime world, and I get to watch it from my concrete steps. This haiku has beautiful imagery and a nostalgia factor that I enjoy. Rebecca Murphy, Fall 2020 |
63 spotlights taken Grant Unruh • |
64 eyes closed, yearning Mara Currens • |
65 she rose from her body Mara Currens • |
66 walking empty halls Maggie Kusar ••• This haiku really transported me back to my senior year of high school. It must've been after the last choir concert of the year, I was walking back to my car and the halls were silent. Partially lit, but a lot darker than usual. And absolutely still. The words here made me think of that being the last time I'd be there for that occasion, and probably one of the last times I'd be seeing those halls, as a student there. Although an admittedly very specific image, I can't help but reflect on my time there, especially juxtaposed with how things have changed significantly since then. Grant Unruh, Fall 2020 |
67 unpacking boxes |
68 dusty journal Sydney Griggs •••• I verily liked this haiku, because I write in my diary whenever I get upset. After a couple of months, I go through the journal and look at those passionate words. It either rekindles the incidents in my mind returning my fury, or I'd be over them by that time and just recollect the occurrences with a calm and unbiased sense. Either way, remembering the unpleasant matters helps me remind myself that I am way stronger than I was which is always a comfort, but most of the time makes me wary of making the same ignorant decisions again. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 |
69 dearest neighbor Mara Currens ••••• •• 7 (3rd place) The amusement that this haiku provided me was quickly replaced with amazement. A concise, violently persuasive note to an anti-mask neighbor is rather poignant now that I'm living on campus, and the break between lines two and three provides some extra depth. “wear your mask or I will break” is both a segue to the third line, and also a statement of unwanted weakness or worry. Haiku often seem to be about connectedness with nature or the people around you, so to hear this haiku speak about reliance on others for one's own safety was at once shocking, and a return to form. Stark Winter, Fall 2020 I don't really have a deeply seated and introspective reason for enjoying this one. I think I'm just attracted to it because it expresses my frustration with a lot of people right now. The way that it expresses that frustration is also very relatable to me because, while I don't act on these thoughts, my first reaction to frustration or outrage is normally along the lines of breaking windows, spray painting cars, etc. Gwen Klinkey, Fall 2020 I truly enjoyed this haiku through every line. I laughed out loud. It does a wonderful job with juxtaposition from “dearest” to breaking things. I saw the letter being written, like in one of those coming of age movies. Then I see a millennial bitterly writing this surrounded by succulents, sewing supplies, and hand sanitizer. The ending of the second line leaves me with the question: what is the threat? Then in the third line I see the heavy rocks all around their neighbors landscaped yard. I see their practical plot to pick up their neighbor's rock and throw it through the window with a note saying “I warned you.” Micky McNaughton, Fall 2020 |
70 six feet of space Spencer Avery • I don't know who the author is, but I really enjoyed this haiku. Social distancing is a great measure to help stop the spread of COVID. However, if we look at it from a different perspective, people have become isolated physically as well as emotionally. Humans are social creatures and, the lack of society tends to push us into an abyss of overthinking if we are not actively doing something. We also consciously or unconsciously seek words of encouragement and validation from our fellow humans which leads us to do better. Unfortunately, the pandemic has put a halt to any social gathering, and we have become more estranged from each other than ever before. Binny Tamang, Fall 2020 |
71 such patience! Randy Brooks • |
72 bonfire flickers Kyle Jordan • |
© 2020, Randy Brooks • Millikin University
All rights returned to authors upon publication.