A REVIEW OF NSCC STUDENT LITERARY & ARTISTIC EXPRESSION

SPARK 2013 volume 5 eclectic spark on the inside sparked by inspiration original 2. Innocence That Never Was | Beatrece Varga 21. Cannon Mountain Summit | David Salucco 2. My Loved Ones | Ilya Prints 22. Through This Storm We Do Not Walk Alone | Beatrece Varga Through poetry and stories, 2. On Duty | Island Ector 22. Peek-a-boo | Island Ector 3. A Hiker’s View | Samantha Gottlich 22. Self Portrait | Amina Aziz photographs and drawings, 3. For Hate. | Nicholas Lovasco 23. Faery Festival | Colleen Bertolino Spark showcases the and 4. At the Farmer’s Market: Tomatoes | Danielle Marie Dugan 23. Massage Menu | Felicia Santos 4. At the Farmer’s Market: Fennel | Danielle Marie Dugan 23. T.O.P. | Kasha Kawczynski spirit of students at North Shore 4. At the Farmer’s Market: Squash | Danielle Marie Dugan 23. Silhouette Business Card | Felicia Santos Community College. This fifth colors 4. At the Farmer’s Market: Strawberries | Danielle Marie Dugan 24. Nubble Light, York, ME | David Salucco 4. At the Farmer’s Market: Scallions | Danielle Marie Dugan 24. Grand Wenham Canal | David Salucco issue of Spark is dedicated to the 5. My Maple | Ilya Prints 24. 3d Wharf | Gary Lucas persistence of vision, forward 6. “The Anachron Project” Preview | Jonathan Cwiok 25. Night Photography | Amina Aziz movement, and the knowledge 7. A ’s Plunge | David Dougwillo 26. Tidal Waves | Nicole Mclellan enlightening 8. Boston Harbor | Andrey Samuylov 26. Illusion | Jaime Stone that creativity is its own reward. 10. The Porch | Robin Myers 26. Lion 2 | Jaime Stone Enjoy. 10. Personal Logo | Madison Onanian 27. Walden Pond | Madison Onanian 11. Afternoon | Karen Spear 27. His Old Man | Ilya Prints 12. Sky Lantern | Nicholas Lovasco 28. Flower Fields | Kasha Kawczynski 12. Look Around You | Nicole Mclellan 28. Sandy | Nicole Mclellan creative 13. The Breaking of Dawn | Beatrece Varga 29. Tsunami | Jaime Stone beautiful 13. Gossamer Wings | David Dougwillo 30. The World Beyond Our Imaginations | Reichley Tambi Mokom 13. Brown Trees | Gary Lucas 31. Clairliens | Kasha Kawczynski deep impressive 14. White Admiral | Jonathan Cwiok 32. Graffiti | Robin Myers 14. Parker River National Wildlife Refuge, Plum Island, MA | David Salucco 33. Freaky, Fab and Fly | Kasha Kawczynski energizes 14. Red | Andrey SamuyLov 34. Home | Kristen Kosta touching 14. Plotting Mantis | David Dougwillo 34. Winter | Gary Lucas 15. Clouds | Andrey Samylov 34. Rocky Shores | Samantha Gottlich fulfilling 16. Ordinary People | Stephanie Buonaugurio 35. Red Manufactory | Geraldine Scola 16. Train Time | Colleen Bertolino 36. Eye | Tina Donohue r 17. Festive Email Newsletter | Felicia Santos 36. Sniffing the Sweetness | Robin Myers All Aboa d! 17. Timely River | Nicole Mclellan 36. I Am Lucky | Ilya Prints unique 18. A James Bond Synopsis | Robert Williams Train Time 17 clever talented 18. Moth Dust | Kasha Kawczynski model Train exhibiT 19. Self Portrait | Linda Tran and More 20. Personal Essay | Linda Tran multimedia: 17 a SeaSon to celebrate Screen Play - Parallels | Stephen Cwiok bright stimulating Click the link on our Spark page: uplifting www.northshore.edu/spark on the cover: Lights | Andrey Samuylov brilliant 1. SPARK 2013 volume 5 Innocence That Never Was My Loved Ones By Beatrece Varga by Ilya Prints

White fence, black berries, laughter … Sometimes I close my eyes Childhood dreams. What are they? and see my father’s slight smile, Where do they come from? and hear his muffled voice, So wise in pain, yet so brilliantly white … or feel the concerned mother’s glance, innocence that never was. inquiring if I’m fine. An ancient face stares back at me from the mirror the happy mask discarded briefly. I’d like to approach them, Not trapped in replaying to hug, to comfort, …but nor speeding ahead it’s impossible now, alas. left only with the image of innocence that never was. Two steps - it was so easy, The children I couldn’t hold so little they needed in all, The life I couldn’t keep but it meant so much for the old - Why didn’t someone hold me? Teach me? Tell me a smile, an embrace, or a call. the pain of innocence that never was. It’s funny, I still think life is good, yet bittersweet. In the swift stream of my life Like a seedling breaking new ground, the years invisibly fly… I eagerly seek light. I pray, grant me more time Yet, come the memories of a girl lost, to tell you of my , broken, My Loved Ones… alone. A Hiker’s View Her innocence that never was For Hate. Sam Gottlich by Nicholas Lovasco

the imperfect a third of the way in bones, muscles, and smile and sipped on attached to your neck thoughts die off like an alcoholics at the impound lot grand ideas of -it. before signing and the feelings are stiff the title uncomfortable to me, for scrap’d tin. On Duty whipped and lashed those angry thoughts Island Ector in a car wreck weren't so violent anymore. designed as a death and a not so perfect mate wish in anger and fucks me better than honesty. a judge (beautiful women if he were able to charge me turning their backs before me.) with a hit but when i saw and run the engine block for hate. 2. SPARK 2013 volume 5 3. SPARK 2013 volume 5 My Maple by Ilya Prints

My maple, beloved my maple, you stand on a hillock, alone, deep-frozen and knee-deep in snow. What mysteries do you keep long nights, when darkness abounds with frights?

Just recently fall here feasted, in brilliant green-yellow colors. With glowing gold-purple cover, your powerful branches spread out.

In dreams, you have found your lovely white-pearly slim birch, and fondly you touched her thin twigs, and whispered the secret well-cherished words.

Alone, seized by a blizzard, I am like you, my maple, I wander in white seas of snow and sing songs to winter of April.

I feel the arrival of springtime, and see light of good in my doom, I’ll find strength to withstand bad weather, my garden again will bloom.

Oh, maple! Beloved my maple, you stand on a hillock, alone, deep-frozen and knee-deep in snow. What memories bother your soul? What hopes or dreams do console you? At the Farmer’s Market clockwise (from bottom left) Tomatoes | Danielle Marie Dugan Fennel | Danielle Marie Dugan Squash Blossoms | Danielle Marie Dugan Strawberries | Danielle Marie Dugan Scallions | Danielle Marie Dugan

4. SPARK 2013 volume 5 “The Anachron Century life in the form of a bed, chair, window and a dresser with “Why does Project” Preview a mirror. A fitting environment A novel by Jonathan Cwiok for someone without a past. Out a gun feel so of his window, the faint glow Why does a gun feel so much of the nocturnal docks gave much heavier heavier when it’s loaded? light to a city still in its infancy. This is all that Arthur Horse carriages sat empty aside when it's Dickinson could focus on, sitting buildings of wood and the roads in room 413 of a boarding house were still mostly dirt. Even the loaded?” in Fell’s Point with a pistol laid seediest corner of Baltimore was flat in his hands. The dank air peaceful, compared to what he physically still in his grasp. It and rowdy hails of sailors and was used to. half-surprised him that he hadn’t prostitutes floors beneath him Three steps from the bed got crossed the time limit yet, but the couldn’t shake his concentration him to the mirror, where he stared furious ticking behind its brilliant on the instrument that lay into the face of a man still foreign gold-plated face reminded him before him. Like the dagger to to him. His eyes were his own, but the moment was near. Any minute Macbeth, its transformation was the bushy, crooked mustache and now, that limit will be reached, so unreal that it felt like a trick, five o’clock shadow beneath them and Arthur will have entered or some mistake made by the felt like lipstick on a pig. Worse the point of no return, when he universe itself. He held it already still was the greasy, waved-back will have forfeited his life to the countless times, but only after hairstyle that gladly displayed mission he helped arrange. sliding a bullet into one of its six the mountainous hairline he had The thought hit like a torpedo chambers did it take on a new always tried to hide. It made him to the gut. He was really going to weight between his fingers. It was look deranged and desperate, but sacrifice himself for the Project. A Winter's Plunge a simple revolver, ashen in color that was the point. He was just Even if he somehow survived David Dougwillo save for the maroon hardwood another ugly mug in a boarding beyond the mission, he’d be cut handle and surrounded with the house, giving no hint of his off from his friends and family tingling scent of cold metal. By true origins. He had to let out a forever. Granted he had little of tomorrow it would be a murder chuckle. Matthew Enber thought either, but even a few friendly of seconds, it would be vetoed out of his pocket. Quarter past of knocks. Arthur stood tall and weapon. of everything, the clever bastard. faces become priceless when faced with a bullet. three in the morning. It was ready, reached for the doorknob, Maybe that’s where the The very name Enber forced with an eternity without them. And so stood Arthur almost time to leave. He turned to and answered his summons. heaviness came from. The gravity his thoughts to what lay in the Everything was accelerating Dickinson in room 413, retrieve the pistol from the bed. What met Arthur Dickinson of the task this pistol would carry. topmost drawer of the dresser. with or without his approval. In ruminating on the first ever Four frantic knocks at the beyond the door was the long Kinetic energy in lead. Opening it cautiously, he found time, the watch would leave this assassination of a president of the door shook the air around Arthur. square barrel of a Colt 1911. The Like kicking an addiction, the pocketwatch still resting room, as would Arthur and a United States. He sighed heavily, His fingers froze on the grip of handgun was polished stainless Arthur dropped the gun on the there. Ironic, he thought, that loaded revolver, making way for shut his eyes and let the watch fall the gun. It was impossible for steel, with “JPM” carved in musty bed and did all he could this meager timepiece is the Washington D.C. In a matter of back into the drawer. He had to anybody around here to know elegant script along the side. to keep his mind off it. His eyes icon to what may be the most hours, President Andrew Jackson succeed. Enber had to succeed. who Arthur Dickinson was, but That gun would not exist for darted around the cramped important undertaking in human would be arriving at the United The Project had to succeed. Or the force at the door persisted. He another eighty-one years. wooden box of a room, complete history. He gently lifted it by the States Capitol to sign the Indian all human endeavor could be a hastily buried the revolver under with the bare amenities of 19th chain, making sure the watch was Removal Act into law. In a matter failure. He pulled his own watch the bed sheets. Another volley

6. SPARK 2013 volume 5 7. SPARK 2013 volume 5 La Resistance | Kasha Kawczynski

Boston Harbor Andrey Samuylov Afternoon | Karen Spear

The Porch by Robin Myers

One may tend to think My porch was splashed with blood and feces Bodily fluids that if a person is her own business, red, brown, reddish brown. covered doing her homework, Sweet, sticky, his paleness. art work stinky. His hands were swaying back and forth, and the like… Catches in the back of my throat, stone blind. Not socializing or covers the floor, The back of his head was caved in. going out much, the brick, that nothing outside can come in smeared every which way, I wrapped him in a purple sheet uninvited. blood drops dangling. holding him between my So, In the middle of all this red elbows and knees, so very wrong. is a large keeping him from getting up. It took a while for the ambulance to get here, something. Was he shot? the EMTs A few weeks ago, white. Had he been beaten? unconcerned, early in the morning No, said he lives in the building, cold, The impression I had at first no. and that this happens to him I opened the door was that of a carpenter There was a large bloody pool on my stone all the time. to seize the day, sitting on the ground, doorstep. His little drunken adventure as is my habit. lost, It took me several mental rewinds spilled out onto my porch The weather is always a surprise, flinging color. to figure out tripping one must know how to dress. The second impression what happened. smashing, was some kind of large whiten infant, bleeding. I opened the door, shock of snowy hair, I had never seen him before. pushed my sleepy face out diapered, Had he come out of his apartment, I have not been able for a quick look see, with no fingers or toes, staggering drunk to get the smell closed the door. Limb ends pointy. and gone out the wrong door? of bodily juices My morning brain tripped all over itself. Did he think he was headed to his bathroom out of my hair, I opened the door again. I screamed for Mya and tripped through the outside door instead? off my skin, to call 911 He could not get into my apartment, out of my nose. and went to see fell, The sight of him, what I could not comprehend. smashing the back of his skull the smell of the almost dead A man with white hair, on my stone stoop. does not leave smooth brown skin, my mind. white tee shirt, no pants, Now, just white socks (were once white socks) I see him walking was sitting in the middle of the porch. to and from the store, always with a bottle of booze under his arm. He is never without. Personal Logo | Madison Onanian I wonder if he recognizes me? Doubtful. 10. SPARK 2013 volume 5 11. SPARK 2013 volume 5 The Breaking of Dawn by Beatrece Varga

Daylight breaks out of the constraints of night unraveling the bonds with golden splendor. Away the rats! The bats! The owls! Away the fearsome blackened corners. Happily birds greet each other “g’morrow”. Sky Lantern Bees awaken sleeping glory, bathing by Nicholas Lovasco in the sunny pools of sweet. Rubbing eyes, warm and fresh, your smile rises like a chinese lantern AWAKE! soaring in the july cape ann dusk, Where has the night gone? which begins to Where are the stripes? The cold steel of the fearsome prison? turn the yawns of Gone?!! saturday skippers Gone also, the yellowed patchment and black ink well lurking on the indian lake I have known so intimately. into a confrontation with This is strange, but good. capabilities and No fear, but wonder in- realities Child-like questions What? Where? Why? When? How? i lay in a ten foot skiff Look Around You | Nicole McLellan Where is the concrete of my youth? anchored in some dim, Where is the grey wall drawn upon before? moon lit cove we would meet exhausted Or the forked tongue of recent years? watching your apparatus in the whittier motel This is good, but WAIT! in one continuous leap for shameful sex Where is the night? Where is the fire? as it comes closer to knowing and irish steel oatmeal When did the burning coals die? oddly open space that i make for us How… with no good on an electric burner did I awaken to daylight? fishing holes. while you hang naked, What is this new? with a sore cunt This new is scary. Lonely. not seeing and as an occasional smoker, Security lost. all the on looker’s eyes –over my shoulder, Why has the cloak of comfort departed? attached to your luminous ascent waiting to drop Return O, night and ash divide! and how you cause ashes Return warm fire to ease my trembling! ridiculous thoughts on summer cottages Ah, but no…. including my own sleeping along the cape This is the dawn of new life. that, someday, as you grave and gently Good. Wholesome. Healing. Changing. catcha flame Scary, unfamiliar dawn. at an altitude designed for proper, modern Opposite page: planes. Gossamer Wings | David Dougwillo Brown Trees | Gary Lucas 12. SPARK 2013 volume 5 13. SPARK 2013 volume 5 clockwise (from bottom left): White Admiral | Jonathan Cwiok Parker River National Wildlife Refuge, Plum Island, MA | David Salucco RED | Andrey Samuylov Clouds | Andrey Samuylov Plotting Mantis | David Dougwillo

14. SPARK 2013 volume 5 15. SPARK 2013 volume 5 Ordinary People by Stephanie Buonaugurio

Ordinary people Volunteer their stories All board! with a very low level of prompting. A

At first you feel trapped Train Time 17 Held hostage by their need to feel heard. model Train exhibiT And–because you are just as anonymous as they are to you, they could care less if you’re uncomfortable. and More The stakes are low. 17 a SeaSon to celebrate Once you accept, that you’re “in” the conversation ‘til they’re ready to stop then you can go:

“Hmm, perhaps there’s something for me to hear, here.”

And sometimes it’s just pieces of someone’s life, that they find precious.

Another grandmother’s grandson Another dying man’s prognosis Another soccer mom’s sewing project

(perhaps you showed some slight curiosity, that turned into her stage for a thirty minute monologue…)

Another widow’s dog pictures.

Not a waste of time clockwise (from top left): Train Time | Colleen Bertolino necessarily. Festive Email Newsletter | Felicia Santos Timely River | Nicole Mclellan A fine opportunity to practice good listening skills. Can you be authentic? — is the question here.

16. SPARK 2013 volume 5 17. SPARK 2013 volume 5 A James Bond Synopsis rendezvous with a beautiful Spanish Secret Service aware of a possible dirty bomb threat and were on a wanted for murder and terrorist activities. No mention agent, Isabella Aguerro. Bond and Aguerro chase Farrell state of full alert. Bond and Aguerro team up in Juarez has been made of the New York bomb plot. American by Robert Williams through the streets of Pamplona, running against the and begin their surveillance of the ETA terrorist, who counter-intelligence sources confirm the New York dirty SYNOPSIS: oncoming tide of humanity and bulls. Farrell escapes is staying with Cartel members, apparently as a guest. bomb plot, and the impact it would have on the world Bond is on a NATO training exercise with the again as Bond is injured in the chase. A passionate relationship soon develops between Bond financial system and the multi-billion dollar value of real French Foreign Legion, at their Commando Training M orders Bond to Juarez, Mexico, where an ETA and Isabella. estate in Manhattan, if New York is hit. Centre in Djibouti. A healthy rivalry develops with his hard liner is known to be based. It is the only lead A US Special Forces hit team, operating over the Going on gut instinct, Bond believes the recently French colleagues as Bond is put through his paces on on Farrell; his connection with the ETA dissidents. border with the approval of the Mexican government, opened Freedom Tower, with its iconic status, will be the notorious obstacle course. One French commando Meanwhile, the interrogation of Al-Sharif, at launches a raid on the Cartel’s hacienda. Photographic the target for the explosion. Despite tight security, a nearly dies in the “Tunnel of Death” – a 50 yard Guantanamo, has revealed an Al Qaeda plot to bomb evidence of Farrell and the New York bombing plot are disguised Farrell has infiltrated the Tower with the underwater swim in full kit, with rifle. Bond is pulled New York. Before leaving for Mexico, Q briefs Bond on found at the scene. The ETA terrorist is killed but, before Americium bomb, contained in a suitcase. Bond and from the course and briefed on a mission he will be the properties of “Americium,” a large quantity of which he dies, informs Bond that the Americium has already Farrell fight at the top of the Tower as Farrell attempts to undertaking with a crack team of Legionnaires. Abu-Al- has gone missing from an Iranian reactor. According to been smuggled into the US. Aguerro is abducted by detonate the device. Farrell falls to his death and Bond Sharif, a leading Al Qaeda figure, has been sighted in an Iranian defecting scientist, the radioactive material Cartel members during the raid. Her severed head is disarms the bomb. M debriefs Bond in London and Yemen, in the city of Aden. Bond is to accompany the has fallen into the hands of Al Qaeda via Quantum, for later found attached to a pole in a Juarez street. admits to Bond, in a rare moment of intimacy, that his snatch squad as an observer. the sum of $500,000,000. The potential for Americium’s Bond meets CIA agent, Felix Leiter, in New York. shooting of Farrell’s father had been questionable. Bond While staking out Al Sharif’s safe house Bond use in a dirty bomb is awesome. Americium has a Leiter informs Bond that Farrell has been posted on replies, “In times of war, questionable actions abound”. recognizes a dissident IRA bomb maker, Farrell, half-life of 7,000 years and an affected area would be “America’s Most Wanted List”, on the pretext that he is M replies, “Quite, Bond. We are at War.” entering the target house. A fire fight ensues and Al- effectively contaminated forever. The FBI and CIA are Sharif is successfully captured. Several of the French commandoes are killed in the operation, and Bond is Moth Dust | Kasha Kawczynski Self-Portrait Lexicon | Linda Tran blamed for not killing Farrell when he had the chance – Bond wanted Farrell alive, who escapes the scene. There are recriminations and French Intelligence accuses the British Secret Service of pursuing its own agenda. Bond is recalled to London and debriefed by M. It is revealed that M killed Farrell’s father in 1988 in an incident based on the notorious “Death on the Rock” shooting in Gibraltar. M was leading the SAS team that killed 3 IRA bombers, one of whom was Farrell’s father. Farrell is identified as virulently anti-British, but also as a soldier of fortune, hired by various terrorist and criminal organizations for his bomb making expertise. M produces a surveillance photograph of Farrell talking with Mr. White, of the Quantum Organization, which intensifies Bond’s interest in Farrell. Spanish Intelligence has notified MI6 that Farrell is currently in Spain, having met with hardliners from ETA – the Basque Separatist Organization – who want to restart a bombing campaign on the Iberian mainland. Bond is dispatched to Pamplona (it is the time of San Fermin – the Running of the Bulls) where he is to

18. SPARK 2013 volume 5 Personal Essay by Linda Tran

During my middle and for me. I wrote an article for the Every morning after I woke up, friend taught me to be genuine from the one I was back in 2010. that I tried. If anything, I can keep high school years, I had my newspaper about my friend’s I would text my best friends and with every one because I do However, my mentality definitely trying until I succeed. My friend’s future planned out. I planned incident. A couple months later, sisters, wishing them a wonderful not know if they are struggling has changed quite a bit. I went incident taught me to cherish out when I wanted to travel my article became the “talk of the day. Almost every day, I went with their own problems. If I from planning when and where everything and everyone around the world, where I was going school” since it was mentioned on my social networking sites continued to argue with that girl, I wanted my wedding to be, me. Because of her incident, I to live, what I wanted to be. I right after the front cover story. and thanked the people I have I would not know what would to taking each opportunity am now more appreciative of all was always thinking about my Every day, someone came up to in my life for everything they have happened. She would have that was given to me. I used to my friends and family. I remind future and never actually lived me and congratulated me on my have done for me. As of today, I broken down and cried and that always turn down opportunities my family almost every day that in the moment. The saying article. For book club, I was so still do these things. I still try to would have made me feel awful. thinking something else will I love them. I still keep my friend was to live today like it was passionate about organizing the reassure my friends and family This death taught me to put come along for me. I was always in my life and I use her as a your last. However, I never meetings that the president let how thankful I am to have them myself in someone else’s shoes afraid to take risks thinking I motivation to try harder. She’s my did that. I always lived my life me organize events for the club. in my life. and try to understand why they wouldn’t succeed. Now, I do still inspiration to taking risks and to thinking about the future and I became the events-coordinator Growing up, I was always act the way they do or why they turn down opportunities and am always persevere. She may not be how I wanted it to turn out, for the club and little did I know, stubborn. I argued and made are the person they are today. afraid of taking risks, but I am physically here, but she will always but suddenly, it changed. One I was getting recognition from sure I had the last word. I had a I would not say I am a slowly trying. Trying never hurts be in my heart. of my close friends committed the librarian and she reported short temper. In fact, sometimes, completely different person and if I fail, at least I can say suicide in September 2010. to the principal that I was doing I still do but I am controlling it. I was devastated from the a fantastic job. The principal Now that my friend is no longer Cannon Mountain Summit | David Salucco incident, but it made me realize asked me for help to plan out an here, I use her as an inspiration something. I should not focus event that involved one-fourth to be genuine to everyone on my future too much, but of the school. I would not have who comes my way. She was instead start living in the present. received that opportunity if it always a happy girl and had a Her incident taught me to take was not for my friend’s death genuine heart, so she was my the opportunities given to me, teaching me to get out of my motivation to be the same. I got appreciate the people I have in comfort zone. into an argument with one of my life, and to always be genuine I always had a horrible my classmates about religion. with those around me since way of showing people I cared We were screaming back and everybody is struggling with about them. My way of showing forth and then, I realized that their own problems. someone I cared was giving arguing was not going to change Before her incident, I was a them an attitude. I never told anything, so I bit my lip and reserved girl who did not really my friend I loved her before she apologized to her. I agreed to take any opportunities. I let passed away and I felt guilty her points about religion and everything slide by thinking for weeks. After her incident, stopped arguing. Little did I something else would come I started becoming more know, I found out a couple days along. After her incident though, affectionate. I used her incident ago that she snapped at me, I tried to get out of my comfort as an example to appreciate not because she’s religious but zone. I used to leave school everyone I have in my life. Every because she was still suffering right after it ended but instead, I night before I went to sleep, from her parents’ divorce. She started joining clubs. I joined the I told my mom I loved her. I took her anger out on me and book club and the newspaper. usually never did but because of eventually apologized, but I Joining these clubs opened doors my friend’s incident, I started to. did not mind. The death of my

20. SPARK 2013 volume 5 WENHAM MUSEUM Through This Storm We Do Not Walk Alone Faery Festival by Beatrece Varga Faery

I know I sound a litle dark. I know I sound a little desperate but these are just discarded thoughts, feelings, t hurts. ea We all hurt. we all, at times, feel discarded Faery Portraits used Faery Crafts broken.

But, we are not alone. Though storms come though teardrops fall, Through this storm we do not walk alone. The lie is that we do. The lie is that we are singular in our pain. Yet, through this storm, we do not walk alone. Storyteller We are unique and yet so very alike inside. UnderWOOd PhOtOgraPhy Faery Portraits We all have the same need to be loved, to BeneFit the Wenham museum accepted cherished SatUrday sePtemBer 8, 10am-3Pm for the little bit that makes us unique, rain date: sunday, sePt. 9 scared Family admission : $6 Per Child Family max: (4): $20 different 132 main street, Wenham, MA 01984 978.468. 2377 Yet, through this storm, w e n h a m m u s e u m o r g we do not walk alone. . We all bleed the same. We all cry for the same needs. We all need to be loved just for who we are ... And … clockwise (from bottom left): that is why I am convinced that Peek-a-boo| Island Ector Through this storm we do not walk alone. Self Portrait | Amina Aziz Faery Festival | Colleen Bertolino Massage Menu | Felicia Santos T.O.P. | Kasha Kawczynski Silhouette Business Card | Felicia Santos

22. SPARK 2013 volume 5 from top to bottom Nubble Light, York, ME | David Salucco Grand Wenham Canal | David Salucco 3d Wharf | Gary Lucas

opposite page Night Photography | Amina Aziz

24. SPARK 2013 volume 5 25. SPARK 2013 volume 5 His Old Man by Ilya Prints

It was an overcast winter day, and they were as the holidays for the to his guest. His guest, his son. He only a light snowfall refreshed man, who was now at a mature remembered well his childhood, the image of the small rural city. age and looked as if he would but did not know his life at present. It was an ordinary winter day for soon be an old man. His son was And his son, in contrast, did not all, except him, the big tough guy, too preoccupied with his own remember much from his past and as he considered himself. Just problems, businesses, marriage and was preoccupied by his current today, for the first time, he saw his divorce, and remarriage. problems. Their meeting was not newborn son, his tiny beaming face The years flew. The old man lived long and, as it turned out, was the and his doll-like fingers, and he felt alone, and loneliness had become last. that, beginning now, all his son’s his primary disease. And one time, A few years passed. Through the sorrow, and tears, and misfortunes somebody knocked at his door, fuss and the anxiety in his own would become his own pain. and came in, and said quietly life, the son had found the time to As the boy was growing up, the “Hello, Dad”. He did not recognize visit the small rural city, the silent feeling of that small sun had the stranger, but after the first few cemetery. He stayed close to the switched on in his home, and words, he felt that it was him, his small burial mound, bending his lightened, and warmed all around, son. Age changes both our faces head. In his life, many people did not leave him. and our appearances, but the voice either respected, or loved, or even Years have passed and the boy, changes just a little. The old man hated him, but nobody except the clockwise (from bottom left) now a tall handsome young man, got lost. He did not know where old man loved him just for the fact moved to another city, and his Tidal Waves | Nicole Mclellan to put his hands or his clothes, that he existed. His old man. visits and calls became seldom scattered on the chairs, what to Illusion | Jaime Stone and occasional. But every time, say, where to propose to sit down Lion 2 | Jaime Stone 26. SPARK 2013 volume 5 Walden Pond | Madison Onanian 27. SPARK 2013 volume 5 clockwise (from bottom left) Sandy | Nicole Mclellan Flower Fields | Kasha Kawczynski Tsunami | Jaime Stone

28. SPARK 2013 volume 5 29. SPARK 2013 volume 5 The World Beyond girls moving around the markets’ around for prey. squares with short skirts hanging The mini-clubs called Our Imaginations on a pair of beautiful long “Cantinas” were the meeting by Reichley Tambi Mokom straight legs while children move places for “predators and prey.” about with handmade articles My eyes fell on a boldly written Facing the immigration for tourists. It was an apparent notice, “Bienvenido a La BOA.” officer, listening to the thorn of community of the haves and As I pushed open the door, I was his voice striking my eardrum, have-nots. hit by the smoke of cigarettes and it sounded like Niagara Falls, This was a warm, windy day the stinking smell of alcohol and my heart pounding like an July 7th, when I set foot on the narcotics. It was stuffy, and the old African dancer playing his Mexican International Airport, first sensation I had was, I am “tamboo.” My brain finally Benito Juarez. As every other first in the chimney of a beer factory. translated his words as he time visitor to Mexico, I couldn't Standing in front of me was a said “Welcome to America.” find my luggage; it wasn't pair of straight, long and smooth Apparently it was like a dream, much of a due to the beautiful legs; scanning upwards, as I reflected on the thresholds of warm smiles on the faces of the her skirt was long enough just to my path. gorgeous looking Latino girls. As cover her pelvic cavity. She wore In past years Mexico was the they say “Bienvenidos a México.” a tiny transparent blouse that Clairliens | Kasha Kawczynski mecca of happiness; every groom After enjoying the warm could be noticed only by a touch and bride would dream to go welcome of the southern of it. Even in the smoky stuffy that request from such a lady– across the hall there were about we want; it is just about being for their honeymoon, imagining Mexican cities, I boarded a room I could see the dragon fine like refined gold with long a hundred of them ages 16 to 26, appreciative of having what themselves, lying on the white bus moving north through tattoo on her belly. It was difficult tender hair as of a mermaid. beautiful as a summer evening others cannot. My fellow college sandy beaches of Cancun, Mexico; we drove for long hours. to try not to notice her. As my After a couple of drinks and with a full moon. She said she mates, when I see you drop Veracruz, Playa del Carmen Looking through the window, all eyes darted, an innocent young a series of questions, I learned she had to go or she would be in classes because you don't like through Tampico and Los I could see was the sun setting face with a look filled with grief, was 18 and a single mother; she trouble because we had been the teacher, drop out of school Cabos. The newlyweds would miles away at the back of dry, anger and vengeance came into couldn't continue school because talking for so long. She warned because you want to work to have an endless view of the blue stony mountains. I realized we view. An angelic voice said, “Eres her family couldn't afford it. She me that I should not look for her get a new car or refuse to attend ocean, the unique sound of the were in the middle of nowhere, Americano?” I didn't understand had to start earning money for but promised she would watch school because your parents ocean breeze and the whispering with sand and dry hot air burning Spanish at the time but I could their home at age eleven. What after me, “You are a good man; made you, I feel sad. I would sound of ocean birds flying in on our faces. This isn't Mexico, tell she wanted to know if I slammed me in the face, sinking this place is not for you.” pledge you to take a journey the sky as the dolphins do their I said to myself. I arrived in the was American. I replied, “no, deep into my heart, making I got a job as a teacher to your nearest neighboring spectacular diving. With a glass city of Nuevo Laredo, Mexico. African.” That voice came again my body shiver was when she working hard and harder every country, Mexico, where children of “Piña Colada” or the famous It wasn’t beautiful Mexico; the “one beer for me.” It would be mentioned that her family was blessed day, saying to myself how don't even have the parents to “Margarita,” they would tan their streets were paraded in the day abnormal for a man to say no to owned by a cartel; what she blessed I was every day; I was make them angry, or the schools bodies and live in their Paradise by armies in their big war jeeps earned went to the cartel. I felt blessed to be where was. I went where they could meet a teacher on Earth. carrying machine guns of all “...she empathy for her; coming from a to “La BOA” often; as I talked to they won't like, or even a bus to The influx of American calibers with their faces covered society where neocolonialism is those girls I had the feeling I was take them along before wanting a tourists made apparent the class like those of Ninjas. People were mentioned going on, where we are enslaved back home; I saw the children car, or enough food to eat before distinctions in Mexico, where alert and the news went from by the greedy wicked nature back home in my community choosing what not to eat. Count people had to do anything to mouth to ear. At night it was a that her family of our colonial masters, tears where children can’t afford a yourself lucky. Nelson Mandela earn a living. As you walked different world; the streets filled dripped from my eyes. Again basic education, where they are once said “We must use time through its streets you could see with drug cartels in their separate was owned by comes the voice “do not cry for forced to work. wisely and forever realize that the young men in their flashy cars groups and American tourists me, look at these girls here, will Cherishing what we have time is always ripe to do right.” with music playing, and young talking to free girls hovering a cartel...” you cry for them?” Looking doesn’t mean we have what

30. SPARK 2013 volume 5 31. SPARK 2013 volume 5 opposite page Graffiti | Robin Myers

above Freaky, Fab and Fly | Kasha Kawczynski

32. SPARK 2013 volume 5 33. SPARK 2013 volume 5 HOME by Kristen Kosta

It’s the calm after the clockwise (from bottom left) storm that keeps me holding Winter | Gary Lucas on Rocky Shores | Samantha Gottlich Red Manufactory | Geraldine Scola hope floods over like the tide floods over the washed out seashells and brings them back home

it’s home they say, when your heart is there

but sometimes the storm carries hearts to the shore lost no perception of belonging until

the calm

and the tide brings me home again

34. SPARK 2013 volume 5 I AM LUCKY faculty, staff, student volunteers and student contributors by Ilya Prints

November, gloomy, rainy, changeable weather, Lisa Altomari Tiffany Magnolia but for today, it is light and relatively windless. Professor, NSCC English Department Associate Professor, NSCC English Department Red-brown leaves rustling underfoot. I walk the Spark Literary Committee & Judge Spark Literary Judge narrow path of the park and inhale this moist decaying scent of declining nature. All around Nicki Buscemi Marcey Marold are so marvelous and . Sunbeams Assistant Professor, NSCC English Department Professor, NSCC English Department Spark Literary Judge suddenly break through the veil of clouds as a Spark Literary Judge

parting, but still bright smile of summer. It is a Laurie Carlson Joe Modugno little bit sad for the memories, but at the same Assistant Professor, NSCC English Department Professor, NSCC English Department time, I feel a sudden lightness and hope for the Spark Literary Judge Spark Literary Judge beginning of something new. How quickly the world changes! James Chisholm Michael Norwood Professor, NSCC Cultural Arts Department I am happy that I have lived up to this time. Presidential Scholar student, Spark Art Committee & Judge Spark Literary Judge and volunteer We have settled in different countries, but we see each other on the computer screen. We can easily Lynn Clarkson Victoria Pasciuto search and find any information, articles, music Professor, NSCC English Department NSCC Coordinator of Student Life on the Internet. We orient ourselves in space with Spark Literary Judge Spark Coordinator a GPS. And what a miracle this little fairy magic Erin Ford mirror is, iPhone, inside your pocket – connecting Mark Sherf Graphic Designer, Professor, NSCC English Department us with the whole world! NSCC Marketing Department Spark Literary Judge How lucky I have been to have lived up to this Spark Art Judge, Spark layout & design time. Janis Soferr And at the same time, with slight sadness, I Sandra Fuhs Professor, NSCC English Department think of those days when we talked with friends Associate Professor, Program Coordinator, Spark Literary Judge NSCC Digital Graphic Design Program looking at each other’s eyes, not by way of the Spark Art Committee & Judge lydia wahl computer, and discussed the world's problems, Editor of the Pennon not on Skype, and received the letters written by Sean Hanlon Student Literary Judge hand and, seemingly, still warm from her hands Assistant Professor, NSCC English Department … Sometimes, I hear a quiet melody of old Spark Literary Judge Terri Whitney unhurried tango, Argentine Tango ... And other Professor, NSCC English Department Lloyd Holmes melodies, melodies of unforgettable songs emerge Spark Literary Judge Dean of Students, NSCC Enrollment & Student from the soul, now and again. Sunset - Sunrise, Services Department Donald Williams Sunrise - Sunset ... It is interesting how it happens Student Life Spark Art Committee & Judge Professor, NSCC English Department that these events, which took place in the past, I Spark Literary Judge

now find in front of me. Things and images, I've Carl Jean Printed on recycled paper. always enjoyed, as well as the people with whom Assistant Professor, NSCC English Department John Zamparelli Spark Literary Judge top to bottom I associated, communicated, argued, reconciled Instructor, NSCC English Department

Eye | Tina Donahue Spark Literary Judge and argued again, now sort of hang in the air and Cari Keebaugh Sniffing the Sweetness | Robin Myers become history. It seems to me that everything Assistant Professor, NSCC English Department was easier then, warmer and more natural, or Spark Literary Judge maybe it is only an illusion? I was lucky to have lived at that time.

36. SPARK 2013 volume 5 North Shore Community College 1 Ferncroft Road Danvers, MA 01923-0840

Danvers Campus 978-762-4000

Lynn Campus 781-593-6722

Institute for Corporate Training & Technology/Beverly 978-236-1200

www.northshore.edu

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