Prólogo ︎

Cover Image ︎
“Create More” Collage,
CreateLab 2022

Premio Ramiro Lagos, 2022
Presentation
Primer Premio | 1st Prize
Segundo Premio | 2nd Prize
Premio de traducción | Translation Prize

Imágenes | Images 
Christian Báchez, ’23
Ari Herrera, ’22
Dora Calva, ’22
Grace Hoelscher, ’22

Fotografía | Photos
Stephen DiRado (Clark University)
⟩ Bell Pond Photos
⟩ Across-the-Table Photos

Ficción | Fiction
Juan Andrés Ercoli (Argentina)
Priscila Ponce Jovel, ’22
Paige St. Lawrence, ’22
Juliana Tronsky, ’22

Reflexiones | Reflections
Diego Avalos, ’26
Borges y nosotros: 
⟩  Diana Chávez Cruz | Mallory Doyle | María Alejandra Méndez | Mario Oliva | Erin Trask

Poesía | Poetry
Tiffany Céspedes,’26
Henrry Ibáñez (Perú)
Fernanda Pérez-Álvarez, ’24
Fiona Willette, ’24

Lecturas creativas (Assumption University)
Introduction | Maryanne Leone
Victoria Freitas, ’23
Madelynn Johnson, ’22
Tasneem Mohommed, ’23
Leah Scontras, ’23

Microcuentos
Anna Dailey, ’25
Samantha Fersobe, ’22
Amy Inestroza, ’25
Ruth López Espinoza, ’25

Agradecimientos | Thanks

Equipo editorial

About us | Sobre nosotros

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Mark
Diego Avalos, ’26

Versions of My Self

—¿Qué quieres comer? —the waitress asked me. I stared back as if she had five heads.

My dad shook his head and translated for me. This was one of many awkward, embarrassing, and even slightly shameful moments that I experienced growing up. I am a half white and half Guatemalan bi-racial kid born in the United States. Growing up I was always exposed to the idea of “America, the melting pot” where anyone fits in, because we’re all immigrants after all. I was never taught Spanish, but this was valid to me all through elementary school because I was surrounded by so many different peoples from a multitude of places and backgrounds. My foundation wouldn’t be shaken until middle school, when I would be surrounded mostly by other hispanic people. My knowledge of Spanish at that point in my life consisted of “hola” and “como estas”. Honestly, until that point I had spent most of my early childhood around my white grandma (who is the sweetest woman in the world!), because my parents worked all day. Honestly I was raised pretty sheltered and whitewashed you could say to an extent. However I lived in such a diverse region I was also exposed to many aspects of the world.

Middle school was when I was old enough and experienced the circumstances to tap into the dichotomous nature of myself. Two heritages and family histories that are vastly different but also eerily similar. Being ostracized and ridiculed in middle school because I was a “no sabo” kid motivated me to explore and experience the part of myself that, up to that point, I haven’t explored. I started working in the restaurant industry and taking Spanish classes in high school, which gave me the opportunity to learn and practice. High school was such a change from middle school because I was exposed to even broader perspectives and my values were challenged. I chose to abandon religion in pursuit of a greater understanding of the real world.

High school was sink or swim, find a clique or die.   I was the “token” hispanic at my high school, which was actually majority black. I thrived off of stereotypical references for humor and strove to change myself to fit in.

I wasn’t myself. To be fair, even months after graduating I still don’t know which version of myself I truly am. I feel validated when I fit in with a friend group and receive positive attention. That all changed when the pandemic hit. I closed myself off, I was more contemplative, less social, earned grades that had my parents beyond upset, just disappointed. However I made a choice about who I wanted to be and how I would conduct myself.

I may be bi-racial. I may be inherently dichotomous. However, I want to be above the “clash of tribes”. I wanted to be a selfless, enjoyable, and successful person that transcends boundaries and cliques set by society. I want to be a friend to all. Ultimately I want to be the best version of myself, which I concluded, is the sum of all my “cliques”.




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