Issue II - Pluvia Literary Magazine

Welcome to Issue II of Pluvia Literary Magazine.

Welcome to Issue II of Pluvia Literary Magazine.


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Literary Magazine






Rising Upon by Nina Tsai


Time of Youth by Viela Hu




Maggie Yang

Joyce Huang

Priscilla Raitza

Emily Li

Alyssa Xu

Tristan Yung

Nina Tsai


Amelia Lim

Breanna Teramoto

Chris Guo

Clara Taut

Cynthia Chen

Cynthia Wei

Debbie Li

Dianne Dow

Elaine Zhou

Emily Kurtz

Emily Lau

Ethan Riddle

Isabella Demianczuk

Jasmin Kaur

Jingjie Chen

JP Legarte

Kelly Lau

Khaliya Rajan

Lisa Watts

Lola Chetner

Margaret Kuts

Mathew Fu

Mia Abraham

Michelle Masood

Natalie Borenstein

Raymond Chen

Ruby Harris

Samantha Lu

Sayde Shuster

Sehyun Ra

Sofia Varma-Vitug

Stephanie Lee

Vanessa Chan

Viela Hu

Cover artwork by Dianne Dow

Magazine Designer: Maggie Yang




Editors Letter pg. 5

nocturne post oxidation by Michelle Masood pg. 6

Still Time by Samantha Lu pg. 7

the sun rises by Jasmin Kaur pg. 8

Feminine Dance by Dianne Dow pg. 9

Untitled by Jingjie Chen pg. 10

Once Upon a Time by Ruby Harris pg. 10

Common Carp by Breanna Teramoto pg. 11

Paddleboarding by Sofia Varma-Vitug pg. 12

my darkness by Lisa Watts pg. 13

The Shoreline by Chris Guo pg. 13

Something in the Water by JP Legarte pg. 14

A Solitary’s Serendipity by Dianne Dow pg. 15

Untitled by Jingjie Chen pg. 16

Constellations by Mathew Fu pg. 16

Escapism by Dianne Dow pg. 17

Writ in Water by Natalie Borenstein pg. 18

The dance by Chris Guo pg. 18

circles by Cynthia Chen pg. 19

she was by Amelia Lim pg. 20

Down the Aisle by Vanessa Chan pg. 20

The thinker by Chris Guo pg. 21

24:00:01 by Samantha Lu pg. 22

Are You Okay? By Sayde Shuster pg. 24

Hoarse Voices by Kelly Lau pg. 25

mother like daughter by Isabella Demianczuk pg. 26

Dear Chronic Pain by Lola Chetner pg. 28

December by Sehyun Ra pg. 29

Windows Into the World by Stephanie Lee pg. 29

First Fruits by Stephanie Lee pg. 29

Who is this in my Reflection? by Debbie Li pg. 30

Nefelibata by Dianne Dow pg. 31

Reality of Loss by Mia Abraham pg. 32

chaos is art by Clara Taut pg. 32

Ironic Innocence by Emily Kurtz pg. 33

Derealisation by Elaine Zhou pg. 33

Last Year’s Today by Raymond Chen pg. 34

Aspiration by Raymond Chen pg. 34

A Snowy Day by Khaliya Rajan pg. 35

Neon Tear Duct by Ethan Riddle pg. 35

YOU by Emily Lau pg. 36

The Vast Unknown by Cynthia Wei pg. 37

Viola Desmond by Margaret Kuts pg. 37

Variegation by Vanessa Chan pg. 38

Rain by Margaret Kuts pg. 43






Founder, Editor-in-Chief

E​ ntering another year during these unprecedented times

has been seemingly tedious and relentless, especially having

been thrown into the many chaotic waves of life. Even

though it has been difficult to allow one’s creative voice to

shine through, many individuals found beauty in the small,

expressing their inner voice through various art forms. Issue

II of Pluvia was encountered with an overwhelming number

of submissions, as the editorial team came across many

exceptional pieces. All the pieces the editors and I received

were reviewed with great detail and care, allowing Issue II

to be a beautiful display of the many diverse and unique

voices across the globe. Many themes are prominent across

the pieces, ranging from connections and hardships, to nature,

and the forces of life. With pieces from all over the

world such as Germany, Australia, South Korea, the United

States, and Canada, we hope that you are able to discover

and uncover the special meanings behind these works of

writing and art. Without further ado, it is with great honor

and pleasure that I present to you Issue II of Pluvia Literary





nocturne post


Michelle Masood




Still Time

Samantha Lu





the sun


Jasmin Kaur

& israel drags his feet across gaza’s chest.

settles across her skin & waits empty-eyed for

it to tear

& a white man sits atop amerikkka & calls

brown skin a furnace. says that we consume

each other in smoke & flame. that it is better

we burn each other to ash than intrude on his


& a cop in punjab empties out a cartridge.

cleans it out in a young singh’s body & names

it necessity. decides to side with a system that

puts food on the table & bodies in rivers

& a woman floats in space. stares at the earth

as the sun cowers behind it. watches existence

light up in twinkling cities & villages. wishes

humanity could step back to stare at itself.

Excerpt from When You Ask Me Where I’m Going (HarperCollins, 2019)





ine Dance

By Dianne Maggie Dow Yang




Once Upon

By Jingjie Chen

a Time

Ruby Harris

A woeful tale, it stifles intent and slicks your body like sea.

Stories and stories that bear heart where you have none.

As your designs fall, don’t beg to dressed up words, longing to be free.

Beware dear restless soul, what cannot be seen

is simply drifting in lucid sky above our hazy sun.

A woeful tale, it stifles intent and slicks your body like sea.

Have you noticed, your speech falls from your tongue in rules of three? The lake in which

you swim, the leap inside your chest, and the light like gold finely spun. As your designs

fall, don’t beg to dressed up words, longing to be free.

You write to escape but only for a second, the second before you foresee

flooding waters and blinding metal and cries of being undone.

A woeful tale, it stifles intent and slicks your body like sea.

Say no more! For the pleads of your worth will never be guaranteed.

Hide yourself from collapse, watch your own shod feet run.

As your designs fall, don’t beg to dressed up words, longing to be free.

While the aching in your limbs may not ease,

don’t shed all hope from skin’s lining, it is a story that’s barely begun.

A woeful tale, it stifles intent and slicks your body like sea.

As your designs fall, beg to dressed up words, longing to be free.




Common Carp

Breanna Teramoto





Sofia Varma-Vitug

The lake smells fresh, the hot sun shines on my back and my paddle splashes water onto my feet as I

glide. The dock in the distance slowly gets closer and I am lifted up on a wave as a boat drives by. I stop

at a tiny island and climb carefully up to the top, trying not to step on any twigs. I sit on a boulder that

juts over the water, and stare at the mountains for a few minutes, remembering how calming it feels to

be the worry of a screen. I startle out of my daze when my cousin shouts at me that he wants to leave.

I stand on the rock and tiptoe back down to my paddleboard, sticks pricking at my bare feet, making

me hop in pain. A daddy longlegs scuttles past and sends me running back to the paddleboard as fast

as I can. I paddle while tiny fish in the shallows dart away, blending in with the icy sapphire water.

After a year of masks and isolation, I’m at a paddleboarding camp. I’ve never paddled before

and the waves intimidate me. How do people have the balance to stay on their boards? At first,

I had a battle with the waves, they were pushing me towards sharp boulders. My instructor had

to paddle over and pull me away as I failed my paddle in the water. I dragged the paddleboard

onto dry land, where we were taught how to use the oar. I brushed it across the sand, feeling

better now that I actually knew how to paddle. It was much easier to balance here on dry land.

When I was alone paddleboarding was tranquil and calming compared to being in a group. When

we were in a group, we would chat and laugh and splash until our stomachs hurt, shooing away any

curious seals or ducks. I got frightened when I was alone, pondering what might lurk in the deep,

murky waters. It was calming to sit and let the cold water flow past my feet until I started thinking

about what could swim up and bite my toes. It reminds me of when I used to be scared of monsters

under my bed, or vacuums eating my toes. Reminds me of when I used to believe that mermaids

glided in their own underwater lands. Paddleboarding takes me back to those days and when I start

paddling again, I remember how it used to be, with no due dates, expectations or responsibilities.




my darkness

Lisa Watts

my darkness

slithers through the floorboards,

attaching to the ankles

of anyone who crosses my path.

it burns the walls

of my home called body,

leaving my tongue blistered and white.

my darkness

pours out of my eyes

like hot lava on a winter morning,

testing the waters of this life that we share.

my darkness

rips the shingles off of houses

and crushes the mortar and bricks,

the foundation is gone

and so am i.

it will drown my own breath

and eat its way out of my lungs.

unsteady of the boundaries i set long ago;

these reservations of self pity

that i do not thrive on anymore.

it unleashes this rush

of a putrid dark smog

that covers my existence.

my darkness

will smile and say good morning.

it drinks its coffee black

and answers my emails.

my darkness

will blast the tune

of screams into my ears,

yet no cry or shriek from pain

will release from my mouth.

my darkness

smothers me,

and eventually,

it will smother you too.

my darkness

kills me,

and eventually,

it will kill you too.

The Shoreline by Chris Guo




Something in

the Water

JP Legarte




This drawing translates the

sudden wave of admiration

and appreciation for a

certain moment or pause

in one's life that evokes an

undescribable feeling. A

solitary, lonely life can

often introduce new

levels of observation of

one's surroundings, which

could lead to unexpected

discoveries that might have

been missed from the

distractions of a noisy,

crowded life.

A Solitary’s


Dianne Dow



By Jingjie Chen



Mathew Fu





Dianne Dow

“I made a series about different coping

mechanisms, each context holding a

slightly different definition of escapism

than another. I used a detailed, illustrative

style as a tool to deliver the visual of

a surrealistic perspective on this topic.”




Writ in Water

Natalie Borenstein

Silky ropes of liquid fog

Swirled beneath the soft surface of the lake,

A tailor of the depths begging of me

My richest material with such beauteous longing

As to make my heart ache.

It called for what was mine like nothing ever had,

Dreamily yearning for every fibre that could be offered -

A gaze formed of a thousand sable pupils

Reaching as one for my sacrifice to its fluid altar.

‘But one touch!’

Was the silent cry of the unrippled surface

Seeking freshness of my old material.

‘But one touch!’

Was its deafening whisper,

The crackled request that raised my hand as Lazarus.

The fingers that had once clutched

At insignificant, soulful scribbles

Upon a snowy white canvas - material vaporous

To the harsh day –

Loosened their grip

And let slip

The words

To the greedy



The dan

Chris Guo

Two birds off the coast of the Galápagos

delicate dance.





Cynthia Chen

like sunrise and sunsets

and the revolutions around the clock

driving in circles

stuck in a roundabout

my hands are on the steering wheel

but I’m not in control

there’s comfort in repetition

but it’s a false sense of security

it’s unfamiliarity that makes things exciting it’s

the uncomfort of not knowing what’s coming

that makes it all worth living

it’s movies where I don’t know the ending

and lyrics I can’t sing along to

that makes repetition and echoes



so no matter what I do

the sun always rises

and sets

and rises again

we always end up here

in circles

we always end up


Islands are entangled with each other in a

By Vanessa Chan




she was

Amelia Lim

the sorrow in her eyes

told a million stories

but the smile

told a million lies

she looked in the mirror

she hated what she saw

a version of herself

that only existed in nightmares

so she tore herself apart

until there was nothing left

but skin

and bones

sometimes she wished

that she could float above the earth

above all the pain

and just watch

as she lay in bed

the voices got louder

and louder

and louder

until her thoughts turned to ghosts

and she was free

she flew far far away

and never came back

Down the A

Vanessa Chan





The thinker

Chris Guo

A man sits pondering over a book, alone with his thoughts in the hustle and bustle of Times Square.




Samantha Lu







Are You Okay?

Sayde Shuster

Summers were always nice here, warm and lush.

The golden rays peeked through the brittle trees,

creating dancing shadows and warming hearts.

But today, unexpected ominous clouds grumble in the sky like bellies on thanksgiving.

Thundering clouds echo through the previously warm forest.

Caught without my umbrella, I wonder how such rain can pour so fast.

I’m okay-

A new diagnosis wreaks havoc.

My sun shined, now the weather has turned,

major depression disorder,

generalized anxiety disorder,

self destruction.

I’m okay-

I am suffocated by the quicksand of my mind,

gasping for relief,

the charcoal clouds cover the sky,

my heart is empty.

I’m okay-

My wrinkled hand outstretched

I yearn for another hand to hold.

I strain for help, for acknowledgment.

Fatigued muscles ache in the cold,

unable to continue.

I’m okay-

The sun lacks a shine,

my face lacks a smile.

My will to live

vanishes into the shadows

Just like the darkening forest

when the sun sets on the western horizon.

I’m okay-

Happiness ripped from my soul.

Like a momma bird returning home to a vacant nest,

I feel empty.

I ponder the purpose of life just like the bird without her brood,

knowing that she will not be truly living in their absence.

I’m okay-

Lifeless salt water,

exudes from my blank eyes.

A waterfall of emotion flows down my drab face.



I’m okay-

Past pain, ravaging loneliness

a rising tsunami of loss,

I fade.

The air I breathe no longer fresh,

polluted by my vacant cries.

I am not okay-




Hoarse Voices

The world failed me

and let me down

And kept me there with its weight

The gravity grounding me

The dying embers of a sun fracture into pieces to pepper the darkness

reminding me that no matter what it does, it will always be seared into memories

when I am the son that surely will not be

Those stars are fetishized pieces of a whole

that nobody will bother to mourn

who they will admire from a distance and hope that they do not join

The wind stifling my screams that nobody would care to hear or stop for if they heard

They excite the audience of a thousand green swaying sinners

Feeding off of the decay of others planted beneath my soles

They tease me

They are more alive than my own soul

They have felt the echoes of foreign footsteps and whispers of more to come

They have felt the sticky hands of innocence and witnessed the fall of warriors

They mock me by cradling what little is left of ancestors I will never get to know

Bones of forgotten stories that beg to be told

That cut through the air and slice through my heart

I stand surrounded by those whose voices are equally as heard;

the bones and the grass and the stars and me

Silently screaming and forever begging

The grass lays at my feet, the stars send tears cascading down, and my bones ache

A message to tell their stories and fight to be heard

so I scream into the wind until my throat have soldiers makeshift tents

so I walk until my feet are bathed in a sign that the battle has been lost or won

so I listen until all I can hear is the echo of the gunshot in the beat of heart

the scream, "we would never be heard"

and just when I thought I should join the silenced voices

I picked up a pen

Kelly Lau






Isabella Demianczuk

“This piece captures a moment

between my mom and I which I

find incredibly pure and wholesome.

The painting was given

to her as a present on Mothers

Day 2020. My intention when

creating this piece was to thank

her for all the work she does and

the innumerable sacrifices she has

made for me and my family.”







Dear Chronic Pain



from the poet

“I wish people did not jump

to conclusions based on appearance.

Someone who has

chronic pain may look ‘healthy’

and ‘happy’ and they may act

‘normal’ because the pain they

feel is invisible. Nonetheless, we

are still chronically ill and in

pain, struggling every day to do

simple tasks and fit in. When

brainstorming ideas to answer

the topic “what's your issue?”

I thought of many things that

personally affect me. I ended

up deciding to write my poem

about chronic pain and how it

has influenced and shaped my

life. Writing the poem was a

very therapeutic process and allowed

me to have a new mindset

for how I will view my pain

in the future. In my free verse

poem, “Dear Chronic Pain”,

I share my story with chronic

pain and how I am not letting

it continue to define me. Furthermore,

I hope my poem gives

a brief glimpse into the life of

someone with chronic pain and

that you gain strength for whatever

challenges you may face

and that you will get better.”

- Lola Chetner



do this


Lola Chetner


because You

are always with me.


me alone!

I live in pain,

You give me pain.


because You

define me.

I wish

I was a

normal teenager.

I don’t remember

the last day

I was without





just a few ways You remind me that

You are always there.

My body is


as You

radiate throughout me.

Squeezing my knees to my chest,

salty tears gushing out of my eyes,

popping pill after pill –

this is a never ending fight with You,

can’t You just give up already?



I dream

of a life

without You.

I live in pain,

You give me pain.

It is time

for You to


it is time

for You to say -


I am going to get better.

I will not let You stop me.

I get to have control.

The suffering STOPS NOW.

Every day

in every way

I am getting BETTER


When You are here,

I will accept You.

When You are gone,

I will thank You.

Imagining a life

without You

brings tears of joy,


It is My time to shine.

I am healing.

I am living.

I am winning.

Because -

Every day

in every way

I am getting BETTER




Sehyun Ra

First Fruits by Stephanie Lee

Windows into the World by Stephanie Lee




Who is this in my


Debbie Li


My reflection. Has it always been like this? My

long black hair that was at my shoulders is now as long

as Rapunzel's tower. The eyes that were as bright as the

stars, why do they appear as though a layer of dust has

blocked that off? I don’t like it. Hey, and wasn’t I as tall

as this chair so why now when I go beside my father, our

heads touch like a pair. When did I get so pale, when

did my face get these bumps? Do I perhaps need glasses,

why is it so blurry? My image, my body, my face, my

everything. I can’t remember. I can’t see. Who am I?

The little girl who would enjoy swings, feeling

the wind as though I was standing in front of a fan. The

giggles I would let out as ice cream touch the tip of my

tongue...I always thought it looked like a pink mountain

with white snow on top. Pressing my small hands,

leaving a print. My lips formed a curve, my eyes turning

into a squint as I looked at the clouds that flew

over my head. Going on a plane was fun for a little kid.

Now, the journeys I go on are not for sightseeing,

nor are they for family. They are to find the

missing pieces that make up me. Is this it... why don’t

I remember it. Back in kindergarten I would look

at the clock waiting for the bell to sing so I could

run. Why did time go so slow then? Now I’m just

running and running, unable to catch my breath.

A puzzle that is missing its corner piece will never

be complete.

The words that were tangled in my mouth, now

come out in a straight line with no mistakes to be found.

When did I learn to talk so easily, wasn’t it just yesterday

where I was tripping over my words as though they

were pebbles, trying to tie them together as though they

were my shoelaces, but for some reason I always failed?

The mirror I stare into, is it me? I would like to believe

it, but for some reason I can’t seem to be able to.

Why did I become the person that I never wanted to be?


The words you are beautiful, talented, and kind. I will

never believe until they come out of my own mind. I

want to believe it, I really do.

So why is this rain cloud covering it all? It’s

been filled for years so why does it now decide to pour

out? Why does the rain that comes down changes my

words from positive to negative as though they were integers

in a math equation?

I never liked math, but I pushed through it. I

hoped that one day I would enjoy it ... could I do that with


When I was a little girl, I could never put my

hair in braids or in ribbons because it was too short, but

now I can. Ribbons or bows, even braids. My words that I

would fumble over made me ashamed that I could never

say what was in my mind, but now I can with no problem.

Propping myself up on a chair to reach my father’s

shoulder, now I can do that by just standing on my own

feet. My hair, my face, my body, my voice...those are all

me. Puzzles take time to build and find as with yourself

it’s a journey, nonetheless. The aspects of me whether

they’re liked or disliked. They paint who I am no matter

how much I try to change it. Flaws are needed. If we

were all the same then what would make us special? Discontinued

works can be continued. I will change the colour

of my body, make my eyes from brown to blue. I

used to do it for all of you. The standards you all put on

me. I will change, but I’ll do it for me. I can’t make my

skin pale paper white because I can’t mold myself into

what you think is normal. If my skin is dark, spotted or

freckled, does that make me any less of a human? The

world still has flaws that have to be fixed so who are you

to tell me that I am not in the standards of today’s society?

You, the people who have hurt me. You, the people

who have discriminated against me, you who are myself.

In my eyes, one day I will be complete.



Dianne Dow

I drew this piece to show the mind of a "cloud walker", also known as Nefelibata in Portuguese. I believe that our life initiates our thoughts, and those

thoughts will be processed for some time before they leave our minds again and out into the outside world; a perfect practice until one gets trapped in their

own thoughts. The irony of intent and impact of one's mind is portrayed in this drawing, where they may be consumed by the addiction of creating

solutions in their own head. Yet that knowledge will never play its purpose in the real world as they get more and more obsessed with living in their minds.


Reality of Loss

Mia Abraham

Each and every person processes situations

differently, especially when they are out

of our control. Many people try to learn everything

possible that they could have done differently

or been more aware of; at least that’s what I did.

In 2013 my father was diagnosed with

Anaplastic Astrocytoma, a deadly brain cancer

that would partially immobilize him and make

life a thousand times harder. In the summer of

2016, his pulchritudinous life was taken from us.

While many fell into a dark depressive state after

his passing, all I could focus on was learning about

what stole my father from me. I would spend night

after night, staying up on my computer, when I should

have been sleeping, reading through articles and stories

about this rare and ignorant disease. During the

school day, I would text my mother asking if she tried

this remedy or this medication while trying to repair

my father. Her answer was always “yes, we tried everything”.

Although it seemed we had done everything

in an attempt to save him, there was always a deep

hole inside of me that facts and evidence couldn’t fill.

So for two years, every school project I did focused

on my father’s brain cancer. Each project practically

repeated itself since I was restating the factuality. I

kept looking as though something was missing, and my

stubborn little 11 and 12 year old mind wouldn’t give

up. I began to believe that I could have truly figured

out something to save him, even though in reality I

couldn’t. In the winter of 2018, I learned something

that would cause me to look no further. After reading

a story about a young woman in her 20’s, who had

the same disease as my father, I realized that in the

fullness of time, it was not possible for my dad to live

with this malady. For one of the first times since my

father’s passing, I looked at the life he had, rather than

the malaise that had consumed my mind for years. For

nearly two and a half years, I had been oblivious to

the effect my father’s life and legacy had on others.

After many years of grieving and processing

my father’s existence, I realized the true ideology behind

it and how he left a part of him with each person

he loved. His vivid brilliance struck those around

him. With clear eyes and mind, I have been able to

see the blessing that was the life of Ron Abraham.

chaos is


By Clara Taut




Ironic Innocence

Emily Kurtz

Derealisation by Elaine Zhou




“An interlude of

memories with my

mother and father a

few years ago. This

painting serves to

capture a sense of

nostalgia from the

illustration of an

old rural town that

was my childhood,

alongside my

parents being there

as well as when

I needed them the


Freedom by Margaret Kuts

Last Year’s Today

This sculpture is an

attempt at depicting

the hardships of life

alongside an aspiration

— hope — for better

days to come.


Raymond Chen




A Snowy


Khaliya Rajan

Snow falls,


Yet we know it is there,

And are excited,

Waiting for morning to come,

So we can go out and play

On this fabulous winter day.

Though it is cold,

We still have fun,

Playing in the snow,

We come inside when we’re done.

We have hot chocolate,

We add marshmallows and whipped cream,

And enjoy it with our family.

Neon Tear Duct by Ethan Riddle





Emily Lau




The Vast


Cynthia Wei

Viola Desmond by Margaret Kuts

The waves rock back and forth,

Slapping the shore like they were in a fight.

As a girl creeps closer, she dips her toe in,

Flinching at the freezing temperature from the sea at night.

It’s time for a midnight swim in the vast unknown

Afraid of nothing, she wanders in,

Her long dark hair floats weightlessly,

As she feels the slimy, slippery sand under her skin.

She breaks the surface of the ocean for air,

The salty winds whip past her ears,

While she rubs her sea green eyes to see.

She moves further, into the darkness; she disappears.

Little does she know, she’s gone too far.

The waves reach above her, she’s disoriented.

She gasps and pleads for air,

But the ocean won’t let go, she’s tormented.

She’s helpless as if she were a fly on a spiderweb,

Fighting for air she once had before.

Her last breath is taken,

As her body reaches the ocean floor.

Seagulls circle overhead,

Like police cars around a crime scene.

The waves slap the shore like nothing happened,

As the ocean continues with its routine.













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Variegation by Vanessa Chan









Amelia Lim is a high school student

from Canada. She loves to express herself

through writing and reciting poetry,

for she believes it is an excellent way to

let your emotions out. Amelia's

writing is inspired by the music she

listens to and the issues she feels most

passionate about. Most notably, whenever

she is angry or upset, she likes to

channel that energy into her writing.



Breanna (Miko) Teramoto is an

unabashed coffee addict who enjoys

traveling, delicious food, sci-fi and

horror movies, and spoiling her pets.

In her spare time, she can be found

writing, reading, gaming, listening to

an eclectic array of music, and crafting

flimsy excuses to buy more books. Her

writings in creative nonfiction, poetry,

horror, science fiction, and fantasy have

been published or are up and coming in

The Start Literary Journal, Barren Magazine,

Moonlight Magazine, Apparition

Literary Magazine, and Charmolypi

Literary Magazine.



Chris is a grade 10 student at St.

George’s school. He enjoys travelling

to different parts of the world with his

camera, from the jungle of the Amazon

to the icy waters of Antarctica. He not

only enjoys photography but also has a

passion for music, being involved in the

school band and the Vancouver Youth

Symphony Orchestra. In his free time,

Chris likes to tinker with his 3d printer

and watch YouTube.



Clara is a 16-year old student from

south Germany who loves to broaden

her horizon in various fields. Whether

it be sewing, painting, photography,

poetry, music or calligraphy, she loves

to express herself in art without any

expectation towards herself. You will

often see her running around in her red

converse shoes or obsessing over nice


notebooks. She loves dark humour and

chocolate, salty popcorn, international

conversations and Eminem.



Cynthia Chen is a high school senior

currently in South Korea. She was

born in Los Angeles, USA, but grew

up in Taipei, Taiwan. Her hobbies

include cooking, video editing, and of

course, writing. She loves writing about

anything and everything. From shower

thoughts to 2 AM ideas, confused

feelings and old memories, little bits and

pieces of her life. Usually, the poems

she writes are for her eyes only, but this

time she is sharing them with the world,

hoping people cherish her words and

the stories behind them.



Debbie Li is a 13 year old girl, born on

March 13 2008 in Burnaby, Canada.

She is currently a Grade 8 who joined

York House School this year. Her

favourite subjects are textiles, English,

drama, and french. Debbie has

been writing since 5th grade. She had

previous experiences of writing such as

winning 3rd place in The 2nd Canada

Intl. Youth Essay Contest. Debbie enjoys

not only writing stories, but music,

and poems too. Over the past few years

she has been doing Taekwondo and Piano,

attending public speaking classes.

hoping people cherish her words and

the stories behind them.



Dianne Dow is a secondary student

in British Columbia. She utilizes her

skills in drawing, illustration, and

painting as a way of visually translating

her philosophies and poetry. She is

currently pursuing in turning this hobby

into a career where she can hopefully

communicate her concerns and spread

awareness through versatile collections

of works in the future.



Elaine is a student at Lord Byng Mini

School. She is in the visual arts program

and has a passion for creating her own

characters, as well as making up stories.

She also animates alongside drawing,

and enjoys making playlists for her art




Emily is an Australian queer, amateur,

writer who has a passion for poetry.

Currently testing the waters to see

where writing can take her, she is excitedly

creating content in the hopes of

one day making a career of writing.



Emily Lau is currently a Grade 10

student enrolled at Eric Hamber. Her

hobbies include reading, writing,

walking in circles and playing with her

bullmastiff dog named Angus.



Ethan Riddle is a visual artist who started

his creative journey after being introduced

to collage art in 2017. Although

primarily focussing on this medium,

his recent efforts are directed towards

digital art, music, and video edits. Most

of his leisure time is spent towards

creating art and he is currently majoring

in studio art at Lafayette College. His

goals for the future are to continue

evolving his style and to incorporate

different art mediums within upcoming




Isabella Demianczuk was first introduced

to art through school in Grade Eight, and

immediately fell in love with the subject.

The last three years have been fundamental

to her development as an artist, and

she credits her art teachers for nourishing

and encouraging her passion. Isabella’s

favorite medium is acrylic paints, as she

finds them easy to manipulate and quick

to dry. Isabella favours these characteristics

as they allow her to make sudden

changes, and add a painterly effect to her

pieces. In the future, Isabella will be pursuing

art through an AP art course, and

perhaps even a career in the industry.



Jasmin Kaur is a writer, illustrator and

poet living on unceded Sto:lo First

Nations territory. Her writing, which

explores themes of feminism, womanhood,

social justice and love, acts as a

means of healing and reclaiming identity.

Named a “rising star” by Vogue

Magazine and a “Writer to Watch”

by CBC Books, she has toured across

North America, the UK and Australia

to connect with youth through the

power of artistic expression. Her debut

poetry and prose collection, When You

Ask Me Where I’m Going (2019) was

shortlisted for the Goodreads Choice

Awards. Her sophomore novel, If I Tell

You The Truth (2021), is releasing

on January 19th 2021. Currently an

MFA student in the University of British

Columbia’s Creative Writing program,

Jasmin can usually be found daydreaming

about the next story she’s itching

to tell.



Jingjie Chen is an interactive media

artist currently based in San Francisco.

Graduated from NYU’s Tisch School

of the Arts, her works often explore

how human memory, sentiments and

consciousness can exist and evolve in

the virtual world, through mediums

like AR/VR experiences, narrative

games and photography.



JP Legarte is a Pilipino-American

student at University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign

working toward a Bachelor

of Arts in Creative Writing and an

English minor. He desires to provide

spaces through his writing where others

can process their own emotions, ponderings,

and anything else within life

itself. His poems have been previously

published or are forthcoming in Pareidolia

Literary, Dead Skunk Magazine,

Words & Whispers, Ice Lolly Review,

and The Global Youth Review among

other journals and magazines. You can

find him on Instagram at @jpl091 and




Kelly Lau has been an avid reader and

writer for as long as she can remember.

She enjoys training and competing in

Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, playing with her bull

mastiff puppy, and watching American

Football. Her dream is to become a

cardiac surgeon.



Khaliya is a conscientious and hardworking

girl. She gives every task 100%

effort and always tries her best. She is

quiet and shy but when she does speak

up she can be very insightful. Khaliya

loves to read and write short stories,

poems and more. She has had her work

featured in other publications.



Growing up in a small town located in

Ontario, Lisa, who goes by l.w. through

her poetry, found peace in her writings

at a young age. Writing quickly

became her escape from reality, as it

was the only form of expression that she

stumbled upon, and she still uses it as

an escape to this day. Only now, she also

hopes to be that escape for someone

else, if possible.



Lola has been struggling with chronic

pain for the past 5 years. She used to be

a competitive gymnast and due to numerous

injuries she had to quit. In her

free verse poem, “Dear Chronic Pain”,

she shares her story with chronic pain

and how she is not letting it continue

to define her. Lola hopes that her poem

can give a brief glimpse into the life of

someone with chronic pain and that you

have hope for whatever challenges you

may face, that you will get better.



Margaret Elizabeth Kuts was born on

a very lovely Thanksgiving weekend of

2006 in Vancouver, the largest city of

the beautiful British Columbia, Canada,

which many people believe to be the

best place on Earth. After graduating

French immersion elementary school

with straight A grades, she was accepted

to the enriched Mini program for highly

motivated students at Vancouver Point

Grey secondary school and wholeheart-

edly loves it. She’s been student council

representative of her class since the first

year. In 2021 Margaret graduated from

Vancouver Japanese Language School

Fundamental program. She speaks 4

languages: English, Russian, French,

and Japanese, and is thinking of learning

more. She particularly loves art and crafts,

horses and horseback riding, and rhythmic

gymnastics, where she is a National

level junior athlete, preparing for being a

National Senior next season and hoping to

represent Canada at the Olympic Games

one day. You can find more information

about her hobbies, interests, contests,

competitions, awards and achievements at




Mathew Fu is a Grade 11 student from

Eric Hamber Secondary who enjoys reading

and writing in his free time. Mathew is

often inspired to write while travelling and

is keen on connecting with other young

writers. Though often overwhelmed by

rigorous schoolwork, Mathew also spends

his time socializing with his friends, attending

school club meetings and playing




Michelle Masood is the bird pecking at

your window, please let her in. When

she’s not in the library or her bedroom,

she can be found lying on the floor or

complaining. She’s a 14-year-old student

living in BC with her family and her dog.

She wants her poems about growing up

and kissing to rattle around in your head

for days.



Natalie Borenstein is a young writer in the

UK. Her work has been published in The

Dark Poets Club Magazine, Philosophy

Now and other similar publications. Last

year, she won Natalie Haynes’ British

Museum Competition alongside a scholarship

for Immerse Education’s Oxbridge

Research Programme. At the moment,

Natalie is enjoying her journey with her

newly-founded publication: Aurum Journal.

Instagram: @aurumjournal.






Raymond is an upcoming Junior at Lord

Byng Secondary School. Raymond

understands the importance of expressing

his feelings and does so in a variety

of literary forms: poems, drawings, and

most importantly, painting and sculpting.

Raymond takes great interest in

critical thinking and is involved in the

study of the interrelationship of fields

such as philosophy and psychology.

Raymond also has an interest in commentating

and has taken the role of

commentator in multiple community-organized

tournaments in different gaming




Ruby is a sixteen-year-old poet and a

fiction writer. During her spare time, she

loves reading and playing soccer. She

believes that everyone should have the

opportunity to express their voices in

some way or another. Writing is one of

the ways she makes use of her voice. She

aims to help others express themselves

through writing by leading workshops for

young children.



Samantha Lu is a grade 12 student at

Lord Byng High School.



Sayde is a mental health advocate who

creates art and writes poem to promote

diversity, inclusion, mental health

awareness, and positive body image.

Sayde enjoys spending her time reading,

watching sunsets, cooking and making

flower bouquets. She has both a cat and

a dog at home, and enjoys playing and

cuddling with her furry friends. Sayde

is looking forward to graduating high

school this year, and going into the field

of psychology in the future.



Sehyun Ra is a grade 9 student who

is currently attending Dwight School

Seoul in South Korea.



Sofia Varma-Vitug is a fourteen-yearold

writer and athlete. She loves to write

poetry, prose, and fiction. To Sofia,

writing is a way to find and make beauty


in the world. This October, Sofia won

third place in the National Spelling Bee

of Canada.



Stephanie Lee is a Grade 11 student

at York House School. From a young

age, she discovered her passion for art,

specifically digital art. She has explored

photography, video editing, and graphic

design. Things that inspire her include

music, her faith, and her family. In her

free time, she enjoys singing, working

out, and hanging out with her friends.



Vanessa Chan is a grade 12 student at

York House School. Writing is both a

creative and emotional outlet for her—

one that she has always loved but begun

practicing more frequently this past year.

In her free time, she enjoys taking photos

of her friends, meeting cats of all kinds,

going on walks to the beach, and baking

almond cookies.



Viela Hu is a Chinese art student based

in Vancouver, BC, Canada. She mainly

focuses on making mixed media works

using paint, resin, and textiles. Viela is

interested in exploring the concepts of




MARCH 7 2022

youth, relationship, and emotions. She

is currently holding a personal exhibition

on her youth from January 7th to

9th, 2022.



Mia Abraham is a Junior in high school

who found her love for journalism and

writing many years ago. She has published

a story with Boston University

during the summer of 2021 and hopes

to publish many more in the years to

come. As Mia prepares for her future,

she writes in different genres to become

aware of the possibilities of literacy.



Cynthia is thrilled and honoured to be

a part of this magazine. She is an avid

writer who enjoys writing anything from

essays to screenplays to short stories.

Aside from writing, you can find her

dedicating her time to another passion,

Theatre and acting in or reading plays.

Cynthia is going into her second year

at University of British Columbia

studying Biochemistry and is excited to

be furthering her skills in both science

and arts fields.

Rain by Margaret Kuts


At Pluvia, we seek to amplify the voices of emerging and established

writers and artists alike. Inspired by rain’s beauty and by how often it is

overlooked, our mission is to utilize the creative arts as a path for societal

change and expression of the inner self.




We hope to publish work that is raw and honest; work that

excavates and uncovers the beauty in the small. We welcome

all work, whether it be lost in the tumultuous waves of existence,

or basking under the emerging sun of a rainstorm.

Pluvia is an international non-profit literary magazine

that publishes in print and online tri-annually, in

the winter, spring, and summer. We accept creative

art forms, whether it be poetry, prose, or visual arts.







JAN 2022

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