iCreate - Discovery

iCreate

“The real voyage of discovery consists
not in seeking new landscapes, but in
having new eyes.”
~ Marcel Proust
In this Issue
Message from the Coordinators …3
“A Blooming Welcome” …4
“Uncharted Landscape of the Mind” …5
“Soul Revision” …6
“Adventure is Out There” …7
“A Celebration” …8
“Be the Light that Darkness Fears” …9
“Uncovering my Playground Mind” …10
“Tranquility Amongst Chaos”…12
“House to Home” …13
“The Flame of Life” …16
“Einstein” …17
“A Moment of Reflection” …18
Unnamed Creation …19
“Beginning of the End” …20
“Corn: An Anthology” …24
“The Distance Between” …25
Serial: Chapter 1 …26
iDestress…30
Meet the Team…33
Acknowledgements…35
2

Message from the
Coordinators
The best ideas are ones that ignite the passions of others. This
magazine had its initial spark from a moment of casual conversation, but
its flames would not have grown this high without the spark of creativity
that lives within the Integrated Science community. So, it is to you that we
give our thanks for shaping our passion into this concrete creation.
iCreate is iSci’s first creative magazine run for students, by students. It
is designed to showcase the artistic talents of the iSci community,
regardless of year and experience level. Art is not comprised solely of one
form of expression, but many; therefore, we welcome artistic expression
through all kinds of mediums. We want this magazine to be a positive
platform for all artists to create what they love, and to share their
handiwork with a wider audience, all the while encouraging one another
to continue growing. Thus, mentorship is an important part of this
initiative for new artists to gain confidence in their skills, and for veterans
to continue developing with the help of a supportive network.
We’d like to give a heartfelt thank you to everyone who has been a
part of iCreate so far. It is you who has made all of this possible. Thank
you particularly to our layout and editing teams, our mentors, and our
submitters. We will always be welcoming new submitters, new ideas, and
new directions, so do not hesitate to contact any of us if you, or anyone
you know, may be interested in taking part. So, without further ado,
please enjoy the first edition of iCreate, as it explores the profound
intricacies of our very first theme: DISCOVERY.
- Meghan Kates, Editor-in-Chief - Angela Dittrich, Media Coordinator
3

A Blooming Welcome
Josephine Agueci, Integrated Science II
A single word heavily laden with meaning - a representation of home, inclusion,
and gratitude. Nothing blooms with pleasant hospitality quite like the notion of
the word ‘WELCOME’.
4

Uncharted Landscape of the Mind
Paula Bosca, Integrated Science I
There is never just one side.
5

Soul Revision
Bushra Haque, Integrated Science I
She had put her faith in the lowest shelves of her life.
Before the path He had given her, she lived
an arduous journey.
She had always felt like an enchanted forest, but
one without sunlight for months.
An outcast to the believers,
to those who pray and call.
She had a hundred moments
She had taken for granted, thinking that there were
a thousand more.
Now,
She feels like a crystal amethyst,
Her mind pure and rejuvenated from the deadliest sins.
He had given her a chance,
making her feel like she was as royal
as the 7th heaven.
Her forest has been brightened by His light.
She now puts her faith on the highest shelf of her life.
6

Adventure is Out There
Noel Kim, Integrated Science III
Your adventure is out there; you just have to discover it.
7

A Celebration
Bridget McGlynn , Integrated Science IV
Discovery is a celebration in which our senses may feast, our minds will blossom, and
our hearts must beat in joy and content.
8

Be the Light that Darkness Fears
Angela Dittrich, Integrated Science II
Beauty doesn’t cease to exist when we are besieged by the tumultuous torrent of life. One
must simply find the strength to lift the head which has been bowed by emotion and
observe the beauty of the ordinary.
9

Uncovering my Playground
Vivian Martin, Integrated Science IV
There is a playground sitting on my shoulders
The slides don’t follow gravity’s rules
The swings hang from crooked tree branches
And an avalanche has buried most of the equipment
All the shovels are broken so I’m uncovering this jungle gym one handful at a time
One handful
Two handfuls
Three handfuls
I show my progress but all that can be seen is a metal corner
They try to guess what’s underneath
“Perhaps a box” they ask
“I know what boxes look like”
My heart sinks
How could they not understand the complexity of my playground?
But I know the answer already
They cannot guess what’s underneath for what’s hidden has never been seen before
They cannot guess what’s underneath for what’s hidden exists nowhere else
But maybe
Just maybe someone has a little metal corner
That looks just like the one I spent all week uncovering
With my bare hands
Frozen
Numb
Withering hands uncovering this corner
10

Maybe they’ve never looked at their corner from this angle before
Maybe seeing my crooked corner is just enough to help them understand theirs better
Maybe then we’ll talk about our corners
We’ll laugh about how wonky they look when the sun shines on them just right
We’ll cry about how the rain rusts their surface
We’ll tell stories
We’ll share secrets
We’ll take turns uncovering each other’s corners
And maybe the deeper we dig the less our playgrounds will look alike
But by then that won’t matter
It’s more exciting when you don’t know what to expect, after all
There are still more people behind the park gates
I could let them in to see our work
To see the sculpture we’re uncovering
But most won’t understand what makes the swings swing
Most will think my slides are snakes or pipes or leftover garbage from a failed
construction project
Their misunderstanding will hurt me
And I will want to close the gates
Hook a padlock around bars
And melt the key in a bonfire
But maybe the purpose is not to be understood
Maybe the purpose is simply to make my unknown known
And maybe then they’ll let me know their unknown too
11

Tranquility Amongst Chaos
Nicole Cappelletto, Integrated Science II
This mesmerizing snapshot captures a dynamic environment into one still image
reawakening feelings from an exact moment. Revisiting this photo allowed me to
zoom out from a dense, fast moving crowd to discover beauty and peaceful chaos. It
allowed me to feel a part of something much greater in this world, and I hope you,
as the reader feel it too. feels a sense of community while envisioning yourself in
this photo.”
12

House to Home
Kaushar Mahetaji, Integrated Science II
She stared at the sign that sat shoved into hardened dirt. The
wooden board with dark scrawls and a grinning figure stood
sheepishly, as if it were ashamed of having uprooted the dirt that
mingled with the newly placed ryegrass. The grass. Another change
she couldn’t bring herself to accept.
Changes before had been unpredictable but at least they had
also been workable. She had liked change – liked autumn. Autumn
was when the leaves temporarily kissed the green goodbye,
welcoming red, orange, and yellow for a visit. The leaves would
bake themselves into crisps that crumbled into fawn--coloured
flakes just like the apple ones her grandchildren adored. When they
were younger, they would race their way into her kitchen, faces
covered with grime bringing in an earthen scent that danced with
the smell of freshly baked goods.
She cherished her grandchildren. Over the years, she had spent
countless hours holding baskets in the local apple orchard,
watching pigtails fly as she listened to the creaking swings at the
community park, and reading with a squirming child at the library.
Although she loved doing activities outside with them, it was the
home that held the fondest of memories.
13

Wheeling herself closer, the ridges and spokes of her chair
caught on tarp that had been tossed carelessly by the gate. Her
fingers paled as they worked through the fabric, nails hooking on to
cuts and grooves. Sputtering and coughing, she finished untangling
herself, pausing briefly only to accidentally inhale fumes from the
stalling construction lift parked in the lot. The lot too had been one
of their decisions – decided after they had fed her the pills. She had
been surprised, as they rarely offered to bring her medication. It was
not until she woke up the following morning to a growling grader
did she fully understand that the patch that once housed the horses
was to become a dry, flat, colourless, and lifeless grey.
From the entrance, the view before her was reflective of what
she saw as a child. Massive white pillars forced their way into
uneven cement along the porch floored by an icy marble. The door
was not much different from what it used to be either. As a child,
when her father first pulled the wooden walls inwards along with
Mr. Jaques the mayor, Laura Farmes the baker, Joffrey Jacobs the
barber, and what seemed to be the town in its entirety, she had felt a
sense of permanency engrained in the perspiration she witnessed
drenching the backs of the workers. She had also felt impatient and
apprehensive at the prospect of possible exploration missions –
adventures. Now the home was the only thing she could hold onto
for those memories. Sitting by the gates grafted with intricate
patterns winding every which way reminiscent of broken
intersections and roads, she cringed as the apprehension returned.
Returned seventy years later.
14

Despite the ornate décor and lavish paintjob, the home too
seemed to be overpowered by grief. The wind slapped the shutters
with the same vigour as the side comments that slapped, engraved
and etched themselves into her mind that typically refused to
remember. Sometimes people forget that even the forgetful remember
pain.
Her tongue – always out – lolled to the side, jerked sideways at
the sudden cold. Bit by bit, the frost began to accumulate, pushing
out the discrete tidbits of warmth that remained. Unable to pull out
her jacket, she sat wishing that she could shield herself from the frost.
Shield herself from the grandchildren who had become strangers.
Shield her home from becoming a house.
The sound of a horn split the silence. She watched as the same
hand she had held and played patty--cake with struck down on the
wheel over and over again. She forced herself to move, but the chair
refused to comply. Instead, it fell forwards on the cement wedging
pebbles between wrinkles. As footsteps approached her, relief
engulfed her. Engulfed her until the footsteps began to fade. Lifting
her head from the gravel, she saw polished heels travelling with a
persistent click before stopping at the sign. Unable to hold her head
up any longer, it smashed into the pavement colouring it a bright
scarlet while quenching her thirst just as the sign “For Sale” became
“Sold.”
15

The Flame of Life
Sabrina Jivani, Integrated Science II
Millions of years of technological advancement, all sparked by humanity's
most fundamental discovery: fire.
16

Einstein
Brittany Mascarenhas, Integrated Science I
If you name yourself a Scientist, while you consider yourself an
Artist, be creatively blunt and just call yourselves Imaginists.
17

A Moment of Reflection
James Lai, Integrated Science Alumni
This photo was taken during a Wilderness Medicine course, during which I was able to acquire new medical knowledge,
as well as discover a lot about myself. It was very meaningful, being able to re-discover life apart from the world of social
media and news, and to instead spend time enjoying (and photographing) beautiful views like this one!
18

Abby Lindzon, Integrated Science II
19

Beginning of the End
Mehrunissa Shiraz, Integrated Science I
The rain on Dundas Square hit the pavement like a staccato. I checked the time
on my silver plated watch. It was 11:00 pm, yet the streets were packed with cars
and pedestrians. My husband was sleeping peacefully in our penthouse on
Victoria Street. He was going to wake up to an empty bed, broken beer bottles,
and cracked plates. I shuddered. I left my house with nothing but a black
backpack. All I knew is that I needed a place to spend the night. Fortunately, there
was a Holiday Inn on Carlton Street.
Finally, I arrived at the hotel. Warmth returned to my legs as I entered the spotless
lobby. There were red couches and coffee tables lined up along the perimeter of
the rectangular room. Eventually, I checked in and headed to my room.
My room was on the tenth floor. It was narrow, carpeted, and had a single queen
sized bed with a white comforter and a red quilt. The maple side table beside it
had a lamp with a white shade and the grand windows, which had red curtains,
provided a perfect view of downtown Toronto.
After a moment, I took off my hijab and placed my backpack on the floor. I never
thought I would ever walk out on Moiz, but now that I had, I didn’t have a plan
for what would happen next. At least money was not a concern since I work full
time as an English teacher.
I walked into the washroom to clean myself up. The white granite countertop was
stocked with soap and shampoo. To my dismay, the soap smelled like fresh
peppermint - Moiz’s favourite scent. After cleaning my hands and removing my
makeup, I studied my reflection. Moiz once said that a glance from my hazel eyes
made him feel warm and secure. Now, my eyes were red and puffy with large
purple bruises underneath them, my clear, olive skin was rather pale, and my
dripping, dark brown hair fell to my waist. I used to love the way my hair framed
my face, until tonight, when Moiz tried strangling me with it. From my backpack,
I grabbed a pair of scissors. Impulsively, I cut my hair to shoulder length.
20

My mind was racing with disbelief as I proceeded to change into a grey pair of
sweatpants and a black sweater. Last time Moiz hit me, he promised me he would
never do it again, but he did. He fucking did it again. I wanted to call my parents
about what happened, but I couldn’t afford to hear them telling me, “I told you
so” - not when I felt so vulnerable. Sure, I may be stupid for forgiving Moiz, but
am I truly a fool for seeing the good in him and loving him unconditionally?
Ironically enough, it was my parents who wanted me to marry him; he was an
engineer, a family friend, Muslim, and charming. So, I agreed because I felt that
they knew what was best for me. Though my marriage was arranged, I did learn to
love Moiz. He cooks for me, takes care of me when I’m sick, buys me novels, and
watches the sunrise with me.
Moiz’s alcoholism began two years ago, after his father passed away. Around this
time, he started hitting me. Nearly every day, I helplessly witnessed alcohol
transform my love into a vicious demon. Today, I finally gave up. A great part of
me felt guilty for leaving him; we vowed to always support one another.
I decided I needed sleep, yet my mind continued racing as I slid beneath the
covers. Why is it that I felt so imprisoned by his presence, but so helpless in his
absence? I felt warm tears streaming down my cheeks once more. I stayed like
that until I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up instantly, feeling my stomach drop as I recalled the
events of last night. A part of me hoped that leaving Moiz was part of a nightmare
and that this morning, I would wake up to the sound of his snoring.
Ten minutes later, I forced myself out of bed to brush my teeth and wash my face.
My black eyes were still very prominent, so I covered them with my foundation
and concealer.
After doing my makeup, I pulled out my rose gold iPhone 6 from the bottom of
my bag. I turned on my phone just to see that I had eight missed calls from Moiz.
He was probably too drunk to remember last night. I imagined my poor husband
waking up, feeling lost and confused. Guilt has a way of inviting itself into my
soul, especially when it’s least wanted.
I took a deep breath and called Moiz back. He answered after the second ring.
“Fatma! Where are you?!” I felt the pain and concern in his voice.
21

“I spent the night at a hotel. You were way too drunk.”
“But I am okay now. Come back and I’ll make you breakfast---”
“You think food will fix what happened?”
“No, I didn’t mean—”
“Moiz.” I screamed. “I have bruises everywhere!”
“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked. I struggled to keep my guard up. I didn’t want to
respond to him.
“I need you, Fatma. You’re all I have.” The vulnerability in his tone was unbearable.
I wanted to help him, but do I honestly have the power to fix another person?
I went back to the bathroom and stared at my reflection. I began to miss my long
hair, but I suppose cutting it will allow it to grow back healthier than ever before.
Besides, I had too many split ends.
“Fatma, please.” He begged. “I’ll fix you a nice bubble bath to alleviate the pain
and---”
“But what about the pain I feel on the inside? What are you going to do about
that?”
“I know, I’m sorry. I promise I won’t do it again.” He said it with such sincerity that
I wanted to believe him. He is such an angel sometimes and a large part of me was
ready to forgive him. I wanted him to welcome me home with his arms wide open.
But what happens a week, or a few days later, when he gets drunk again? What
happens then?
“Moiz, I’m sorry but this is all so draining.”
“Am I not good enough for you? Don’t you see that I always try my best to treat you
like an empress?”
“Those fancy dates and expensive gifts are meaningless if you constantly disrespect
me. Last night was the last straw.”
“But I don’t even remember what happened!” I imagined him sitting in our living
room, turning a blind eye towards the mess around him.
22

“Last night, I was afraid for my life. I do not need this nor do I deserve it.” My voice
was cold and steady.
“Fatma, I think we should talk about this in person.”
“Yes, we can talk about this in court because I am divorcing you.”
“Fatma, please don’t do this.” I ignored him.
“I will have someone come by to collect my things.” It was about time I reached
out to my parents about this.
“Fatma---”
I hung up.
It was over, almost over. The reality of divorce punched me in the stomach as I fell
to the floor. I crawled into a fetal position and began to weep. I just wanted
happiness. Soon enough, the weeping turned into sobbing. I felt emptiness and
relief at the same time. As I cried, I prayed to Allah for resiliency and patience.
Eventually, I stood up and pulled back my curtains. It was raining again. In the
street below, people were running to find shelter.
I shook my head and crawled back into bed. It was going to rain for a while.
23

Corn: An Anthology
Denver Mills, Integrated Science II
I
A poem about food:
seems somewhat corny to me.
Did it for the memes.
IV
Popcorn, on the cob…
Many ways to eat this grain;
Which one is the best?
II
PAIx is almost due.
Discovered I have an hour,
but I still love corn.
V
Corn was my saviour.
It saved me from a dark time…
Goodbye, Harambe.
III
Golden grain glistens;
a fresh craving’s awoken.
Truly delicious.
VI
How I discovered
my love for this vegetable?
Thank you, Chad Harvey.
24

The Distance Between
Hannah Hosein, Integrated Science II
Our worlds coexist, simultaneously occurring in space and time, but they never cross.
Yet, the seemingly insurmountable distance between us can be bridged by the imagination.
25

iCreate Serial
Chapter 1
By: Meghan Kates, Integrated Science II
26

As she headed reluctantly out to sea, all she could think about was death.
It seemed that every personal tragedy in her life was mired in water in one
way or another.
“You okay?” Max checked in, unfailingly steady and cheerful despite
the thrashing waves.
She tried to shake the grim thoughts out of her head as she blinked
back at him. A quick, tight smile was all she could muster.
He shook his head fondly. “I’m going to prepare my gear,” he
declared. For a long moment, Max stood square to her, waiting for her next
move.
“I’ll … I’ll be right down,” she returned slowly, stomach clenching as
the next wave shuddered against the bow.
He gave her a squint-eyed glance for several long moments,
analyzing. With a slight shrug of his shoulders that could have been a
readjustment in the straps of his backpack, he turned away.
Ana couldn’t help it, she looked back at the white caps surfing the
waves around them. The boat crested a swell, nose diving down as it rode
the wave. Her heart swooped painfully. Was this how her grandfather died,
boat no longer level with the horizon, heart pounding in fright? That
uncertainty surrounding his final moments was something that haunted
her.
Water splashed up from the bow, coating the front deck with a
definitive slap. Ana jumped at the noise, hearing her pulse pound above
the unceasing cymbal claps of the ocean trying to entice them into its
depths. How many had been drawn in by the siren call, only to join the
countless unnamed masses in the world’s largest unmarked graveyard.
“Ten minutes ‘til coordinates,” the captain called suddenly. His voice
boomed over the pounding waves, causing Ana to jump again.
She shook her head at her own thoughts. Now was not the time to get
drawn in by melancholy pondering. They had a job to do. Quickly, before
she could think about water flooding below deck like – before she could
think, Ana headed to gather her research materials.
27

The next 20 minutes were a flurry of activity as the diver was suited
up with equipment and measuring devices. They were here to determine
the source of disturbance in their deep sea water sampling data. There had
been an unattributed spike in iron concentration which needed to be
investigated.
Ana watched the diver make her descent through their live monitors,
trying desperately to calm the rapid surge of her pulse. She couldn’t quite
shake the feeling of water closing around her mouth, scorching its way into
her lungs. It was an echo of a memory that had woken her up gasping for
breath more times than she would care to count. Sometimes, her ghosts
dripped water from every pore, leaving puddles on her floor.
“The diver is a quarter of the way there,” Max gently informed her. He
glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, lips pursed slightly.
Ana gave him a grateful nod, making an exaggerated show of
checking the readouts and recordings from the diver’s numerous
instruments. The diver sank another few metres at a crawling pace as the
scientists watched. Her coordinates flashed on a bottom readout
intermittently and Ana caught this one, breath stilling.
46°08’47.3” N 32°02’08.5” W, twenty kilometres off from where the
R.S. Fortuna had made its final distress call. Twenty kilometres from where
her grandfather had drawn his last breath in the midst of an ordinary storm,
ship with no noted damage. The call only reported noises coming from
below deck, perceived gibberish about creaks and laughter, wails and
music.
“Three quarters,” Max announced, verifying the readouts he was
responsible for examining.
“Iron levels at a slow rise,” Ana reported.
“It looks like there’s something dark below me,” the diver’s voice
came suddenly through the speakers.
28

Ana froze, eyes widening. Darkness was what she had seen as the
water had closed over her. Darkness was what she had felt at the doctor’s
pronouncement. “There was fluid in her lungs; it was caught too late. I’m
sorry.” Darkness was probably the last thing her grandfather had
experienced. She drew a shaky breath.
“Holy …” the diver’s voice rasped in a shower of static.
“Helen,” Max called, voice tight and controlled. “Are you safe? Tell us
what is happening.”
“I’m fine,” Helen’s voice came back, tinny over the speakers,
distracted. “I think I figured out the anomaly in your data.”
As she spoke, the dark shape in her suit camera started to resolve.
There was a broad, sloping outline of some kind. She swam closer and
further details came into focus. A circle interrupted the smooth side, and
two more at regular intervals. The slope was broken by a long flat side.
“Pinch me, I’m Ariel,” Helen murmured. “I’ve just discovered a
shipwreck.” Any further words were lost on Ana as a plaque on the side of
the ship came into focus. The rusted letters were still clear:
R.S. Fortuna
Here lies Alexander, devoted father, grandfather and son. Here is his watery
grave.
29

iDestress
Want to unwind? “Discover” a new book to pick up as
recommended by our team.
Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
“Virtual reality has combined with the
internet to form the Oasis. It’s creator
has recently passed away, leaving
his entire fortune and company
locked behind a enormous Easter
egg hunt. This book is great. It’s filled
with 80s trivia and video game
history, the majority of which are
actually incorporated into the plot.
You don’t have to be an expert of
the eighties though, because the
plot itself is fun and interesting- it
always kept me on my toes. This
books getting a movie too, so this is
a great time to pick it up”
- Nadia Al Hashemi
Fifth Business by Robertson Davies
“In a small town in Ontario there
occurs an incident, small as an
isolated moment, but one which
intertwines four lives inextricably;
each of them forever carrying
forward guilt, anger, or loss.
Chronicling one such life through
albeit simple writing, Davies
intertwines Jungian psychology,
religious motifs, and magic tricks, into
a novel that leaves you introspective
and eager for discovery.”
- Paula Bosca
A Fine Balance by Rohinton Mistry
“Although this novel chronicles relentless
hardship engrained in corruption and
cruelty, its grim plot line speckled with
the occasional misdirected optimism is
what makes it particularly compelling.
By merging the tragedies concealed in
four distinct narratives, A Fine Balance
provides a haunting look into how
humans endure the inhumane.”
- Kaushar Mahetaji
“The Secret by Rhonda Byrne is a self
help book that discusses the
pseudoscience of the law of attraction,
presenting a different way of viewing
the world. The law of attraction states
that if you think something, that thing
will be attracted into your life. There
are several ways to interpret this. Some
people rightfully choose to take it
literally, however, it is more so about
developing a way of thinking that is
beneficial to yourself. If you’re
constantly swarmed with negative
thoughts you will see the world that
way. If you allow yourself to think happy,
positive thoughts, the world may seem
a little brighter. I love this book
because it reminds us to keep a
positive attitude despite the daily
challenges we face.”
- Maria Romano
!830

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern. “Magic, mystery and performance: there
has never been a more perfect combination of the three. This book is more
than just words on a page but a feeling that draws you into the human
struggle of each story that is woven in perfect complement to the next,
evoking a picture of a world that lingers even after you’ve put it down. If I
were to write a book, I’d want to be able to capture that visceral feeling of
humanity and magic within my own pages"- Meghan Kates
“Wizard’s First Rule by Terry
Goodkind: My words won’t do this
fantasy novel justice! Think of Lord
of the Rings crossed with Game of
Thrones.....but dare I say better! It’s
got everything: magic, medieval
cities, underworld beasts, a twisting
plot, and (of course), a steamy
relationship between a humble
woodsguide and a powerful
sorceress. Oh, and let’s not forget
the naked old wizard meditating on
a rock…” - Sara Lemire
“Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian
Gray is set in Victorian England and is
a grim tale about a young man who
sells his soul to remain young and
beautiful forever. I especially enjoyed
Oscar Wilde's captivating writing style
which is both witty and lush with
description. If you're looking for a story
that is creepy, haunting, and has a
dark premise and atmosphere,
(especially as we approach
Halloween), The Picture of Dorian Gray
may just be the perfect read for you.”
- Theresia Sakhi
“I would suggest F. Scott Fitzgerald’s
novel ‘The Great Gatsby’. I’ve always “Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 was
been a huge fan of historical fiction, written in 1953, but this dystopian
and I love how this book feels like it book paints a hauntingly accurate
gives me a sneak peak into the picture of the state of our society. In a
dreaminess and the complex world where books and knowledge
intricacies of Gatsby’s world - all are banned, one man peeks behind
taking place in the roaring and the curtain and discovers that his
fabulous 90’s. We are introduced to heroic career has actually made him a
passionate characters that seem villain, and now he must choose what
outlandish, perhaps subtly fantastical, path to take: to continue destroying
and at once, deeply flawed.
books and follow orders, or defy
Fitzgerald gives readers his insight on everything he has ever known to fight
love and desire, ambition and wealth, to free society. This book is very short
triumph and tragedy, and the fragility but action packed, and is a book
of the infamous American dream. It’s a that really makes you think, which I
classical piece of literature, and for
love.”
good reason.” - Emily Xiang - Angela Dittrich !931

Ender Series
“The sci-fi series that imagines science and builds worlds of tyranny and
prosperity. First delving into the political and moral considerations of training
children in a war against the impending alien army in Ender’s Game, the story
explodes into a critique and embrace of human behaviour witnessed and
shaped by a cast of characters; physicists who discover the empty outside
of the universe, biologists who enter an apparent bloody and cruel culture
of a pig-like race with whom coexistence appears impossible, and a child
soldier who travels through space helping colonize the dangerous alien race
he once tried to destroy. This series will drag you through hundreds of galaxy
systems, and leave you feeling as lost as the child who gives peace and rest
to millions, but is condemned to a homeless, restless life. And I enjoyed every.
Single. Word.”
- Taylor Luu
The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out of the Window and
Disappeared by Jonas Jonasson
“One of the most outrageous, hilarious, and wholesome novels I’ve ever
read tells the story of an 100-year-old explosives expert named Allan who,
instead of attending his own birthday celebration, escapes from his
retirement home and departs on an unforgettable adventure. After walking
to the station in his slippers and waiting patiently for his bus to arrive, Allan
is asked to watch a man’s suitcase for a minute while he uses the restroom.
Long story short, the centenarian finds himself in possession of a suitcase
stuffed with money belonging to a gang of drug-dealers and spends the
entirety of the novel trying to escape the confines of his boring retirement
home, while being unknowingly hunted down by both the police and a
gang of murderous criminals. Part of the reason why I loved this book so
much is the fact that the chapters alternate between the craziness of the
present to the even crazier past of Allan’s 100-year-long life. The reader
pieces together a past that, while absolutely improbable, amazingly seems
to be 100% possible. With appearances from Churchill, Stalin, Truman, and
the atomic bomb (among others), the author incorporates his quirky
character into a handful of actual historical events. This book is perfect for
anyone who loves history, wild adventures, and a ridiculously charming plot
line.”
- Josephine Agueci
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Meet the Team
Design Team
Angela Dittrich Maria Romano Megan Tu Amir Mortazavi
Media Promotions Graphic Designers
Coordinator Coordinator
Nadia Sara Lemire Abby Lindzon Josephine
Al Hashemi
Agueci
Layout Editors
33

Meet the Team
Editing Team
Meghan Kates Monica Takahashi Paula Bosca
Editor in Chief Submissions Coordinators
Taylor Luu Kaushar Mahetaji Emily Xiang Theresia Sakhi
Assistant Editors
34

Acknowledgements
We would like to thank all
of the artists that submitted
to iCreate. This first edition
would not have been
possible without you. Thank
you to our design and
editing teams who brought
this project to life. Thank
you to our mentors, and to
all of you who supported
iCreate. We will see you
next edition.
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