The Adroit Journal 2018 Summer Mentorship Program
Meade Mustang IB Short Film Showcase by the Seniors in the IB Film Class
The seniors of 2018 offer you a rare and personal opportunity to be an active participant in their viewing public. Please view all films with an open mind. Students have created short films from a wide field of genres and topics. Some present challenges to how we think. Some offer deep insight into the social currents of their world. Some might make you laugh and some might make you cry. Some will educate and some will entertain.
At the least, all of them will make you think.
IB Films 2018
Continue reading “Meade Mustang IB Short Film Showcase by the Seniors in the IB Film Class”
by Christina Huang
First Place in Photography
Ophelia by Jaylah Easter
“He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his
heels a stone.” (IV.V.XXX)
The warm whisper of a melody winds through the air, escaping like the last embers of
an abandoned fire
From the chilled lips of crippled innocence flows the omen of foretold sleep
Up she goes, wracked with the weight of a sort of neglected recklessness, heavy
To braid-to weave-to intertwine; to speak through those which so romantically offer life
and beseech upon death
Go silently; succumb to the suffocation of the mouth and the suppression of the mind
The ferality of consciousness, the human abyss, danker than the lure of the murky
The Little Sprout by Angela Guzman
Every time I walk home from school,
I see that little sprout,
Wondering what the plant would do
If we had an everlasting drought.
I sometimes think I’ve seen it before
In my life or in a dream.
I ask myself if it ever felt lonely
With such a low self-esteem. Continue reading “The Little Sprout by Angela Guzman”
The Story of My Life by Anon
We are born with the urge to live,
So we live each day dying to live,
But ultimately, we live to die.
I stare blankly at a numb ceiling
As my innocence is strangled and fades away.
“We are the same…”
my heart cries to the walls.
They cannot hear me, they do not feel me.
I feel the same. Continue reading “The Story of My Life by Anon”
