PaaranganaSethPaarangana is studying in9th grade. Since herchildhood, she has beenvery interested inphotography as theamazing pictures clickedby professionalphotographers alwayswowed her. She has beenclicking pictures ofnature since the past fewyears and is loving it.Other than photography,Paarangana also likes art& craft very much.
OCEANS ~MADELYNE ROSE SOSAMadelyne is a Mexican-Colombian-and-Guatemalan poet and writer based inAppleton, WI by way of Los Angeles, CA. She is the blog editor for Humankind Zine andher writings have been featured in the likes of Homegrown Zine, Sumou Mag, and herlocal arts paper, FSM. She is a lifelong daydreamer, vintage, and music enthusiast.When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee, baking, or obsessing over herpets.Her silky white dress. The eyelash on her cheek. A green strand of hair cascading fromthe bun she tried to keep out of her face. Her hands- rough like those of a woman whoselived, danced, and knew more than he. Yet still gentle upon him, they were unlike anyhe’d ever felt. He spun her around in circles, they danced around his living room. Hegazed out the window as she pressed herself in closer, when he held her like this thenight sky looked different, every star seemed like it was shooting and the moon seemedlike it was just outside his window, setting like the sun. He briefly thought if he reached ahand out the window he could touch it, hold her in his other hand and they’d danceupon it forever, then he’d never have to let her go.She sang along with the song as the record spun, this song was slow and steady, not thefirst choice for either of them but he loved it because it allowed him to hold her close,something which he struggled to ever do. His grandfather loved this record, played itrepeatedly as he was growing up, so he knew the order of each song on it and felt his heartheavy as the needle reached the final one. By holding her so close for so long he wasstarting to feel as though he were beginning to understand her better. He was starting tomemorize the way air pushed itself in and out of her lungs, how every now and then she’dtrip over her feet and faintly turn red at her neck.
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