Continue The Voice (Issue 6: Time)

6 Issue Time 28/03/21 continue the voice 2 I am starting this letter off very different than how I usually do. As a woman in the UK, I have spent most of my life living in fear of my safety, presuming sexual harassment was just part of being a woman and always working ten times harder than my male counterparts for the same results. But that ends now, I will no longer live-in fear and to every single woman not just in the UK but in the whole world we deserve better, and we are here for you not just as a company but as individual women who make up our small team. I hope that my children do not live in a world ÜiÀi Üi V>ÀÀÞ ÌiÀ iÞÃ LiÌÜii ÌiÀ w}iÀÃ vÀ ÌiÀ own protection. On a lighter note, I am so excited for us to be sharing out sixth issue with you on ‘Time’ marking out six-month anniversary! Time is a concept I have always found so interesting because time is... well, just a manmade concept which so much of our life is based on. Recently, I have been loving our longer reads such as ‘Morning Ritual’ by Yash Seyedbagheri, ‘Plastic Breath’ by Alfredo Salvatore Arcilesi, and of course part two of Bob Ritchie’s ‘Sultan, Pretty and Me’. I am also very excited to be featuring the talented Rude Cookies Glasgow for our small business feature as I am absolutely obsessed with their cookies on Instagram, and I am ordering some right now! So, please sit back, relax – whatever the weather and the state of the world – grab a beverage of your choice and perhaps a blanket or a fan and immerse yourself in this issue on Time! And remember to show up for and support the women in your life. Kirsty Taylor She /Her A Letter To Our Readers Front cover photography by Natalie Leanne Magazine Design by Anna McFarlane 3 CONTENTS 4 Time Hurts by Shannon Gardner- 6 Are We Running Out of Time? Being Single in a Pandemic- 7 Poetry Corner 1- 8 A Morning Ritual- 10 Insertico by Rosa Gravino- 11 Poetry Corner 2- 12 Interview with an Author- 14 The Gallery- 16 .QEMFQYPD[4KHC6CUƂC%JQWFJWT[ Tick Tock by Kirsty Taylor- 23 Trees in Life- 24 Short Story: Plastic Breath- 26 Something To Remember- 30 Making Time For You- 32 Instante by Rosa Gravino- 33 Passing Time at the Sea- 34 Art by Ingilosi- 35 Part Two of Sultan, Pretty and Me- 36 Things We’re Loving- 38 Playlist- 40 Sustainable Art: Wild and Kind- 42 Restaurant Highlight: Blasta- 44 The Art of Makeup- 46 Small Business Spotlight: Rude Cookie Glasgow- 48 Coorie Moments- 50 If You Could Live In Any Time Period, When Would It Be and Why?- 52 5 Time H by Shanno By Shannon Gard use of India and creates beau while crafting an appearance. assists the view the Asian aesth appreciation of Her use of d impression drawing. St clusters of value texture and de illusion of change 6 By Kirsty Taylor M any of us called ourselves hopeless romantics pre the ‘turbulent twenties’ >«À>Ãi>Ûi`iV`i`Ì>iÌÃ`iV>`i>ÃÌÕÃÌviiÃÃwÌÌ}®]LÕÌ none of us truly understood the meaning of hopeless romantics until we were hit with a global pandemic whilst single and had to just put up and shut up (or so ÌiÛiÀiÌÜÕ`>Ûii`®ÜÌÌi ÀÌÃÛiÀiÌÌiÀ>Þ«Ã} a sex ban. Now, you might be reading this and thinking, ‘Come on, aren’t there bigger things happening right now?’ And you would be entirely correct, and no- one is denying that, but this article is not about that. As someone who has not had more than a few dates with the same person, let alone a serious relationship in now twenty-four years of living, the realisation that my ability to meet people was now destined for the world of internet dating only, gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘hopeless romantic’. I can ensure you for many years I was the person who said I would never get dating apps, and vÞvÀi`ÃiÛiÀ>`iiivÀ>i]½``iiÌiÞ«ÀwiÜÌÕÌiÛi seeing what the app was all about. How the tables have turned, as I actually met someone on Hinge, and I am using the word ‘met’ very loosely. To chat through Instagram DM for a whopping three ÌÃ>`ÌLi>LiÌiiÌ«iÀÃ®vÀ¼VÀ>Ài>ÃÃ½Ã>Ài>V>ÌVÓÓ because you want to be upset, but the reason is entirely valid so you are just left feeling hopeless. There are two things that are so incredibly gut-punching >LÕÌLi}Ã}iÀ}ÌÜ°/iwÀÃÌÃÌ>ÌÞÕÀÌiÀÃ>ÀiiÌiÀÌÃV>Ài` to leave the house, don’t want to break the rules and don’t necessarily want to commit to someone you barely even know. The second is that you constantly feel like you are running out of time, as a woman who literally just turned twenty- four, I often have nightmares of my biological clock running out; and if they are not about that, they are about calculating how long I will need to have known someone, before getting engaged, and then getting married, and then having a child, and if there is enough time left for all of that. This is one of the deep problems rooted within our society for young adults, this timeline set out for us that we are ‘supposed’ to follow, and for women, >L}V>VVÜiÕÃÌLi>ÌÀ`iÀÌvÕwÕÀ¼«ÕÀ«Ãi½>`LiVi mothers. As much as this article is about how much of a disaster it is to be single À}ÌÜ>`Ü>Ì}Ìw`Ãii]ÌÃ>Ã>LÕÌÜÌiÛiÀÞiii`Ã to follow that timeline. In fact, not everyone even needs nor wants romantic love, but there is nothing wrong with it if you do. What I miss most of all is physical touch, there is only so much that Love Honey can do. I hope reading this article as a single person in Britain has made you feel validated and if you are not single right now I hope it has given you an insight into what it is truly like to be single right now. People may be joking on Twitter >LÕÌÜÌÃ«>`iVÃÜ>ÃÌ}ÌiÀ£nqÓxÀ>V>À`Þi>ÀÃ]LÕÌÌiÀi>ÌÞvÀ single people right now is this is wasting away our dating years. However, I want to leave you with one thing: time is a social construct and you are not running ÕÌvÌiÌw`Ãii]iÛivÌ`iÃviiiÌ]ÌÃÜi`>`ÞÕÜ w`Ãii° Are We Running Out of Time? Being Single in a Pandemic 7 Poetry Corner 1 Nothing and all Only so much time allotted our soul’s walk On this, dry earth A‘fore plucked still budding we Are taken up into Nothing or something Scholars cannot decide The gender, purpose or guile of God Whether in DNA we make him Or clay, form, those deities Clash in storybook Causing futile war In human reach we fear so much Never admitting this is why Strangers are not Welcome and we turn More to those who resemble What we know In our small skulls we Do not know as much as We think but still This awareness of something May a curse be To know is to fall To fall is to be By Candice Louisa Daquin. Candice is of Sephardi French/Egyptian descent. Born in Europe, Daquin immigrated to the American South West to study and become a Psychotherapist, where she has continued writing and edit- ing. Prior to publishing her own poetry collections, Daquin regularly wrote for the poetry periodical ‘Rattle and The Northern Poetry Review’. Daquin is VÕÀÀiÌÞ-iÀ `ÌÀ>Ì`i Õi®*ÕLÃ}]>viÃÌVÀ«ÀiÃÃ°ƂÃ> queer woman of mixed ethnicity and passionate feminist beliefs concerning equality, Daquin’s poetry is her body of evidence. 8 Beyond Barriers If imagination was a graceful bird I would imagine that I had turned into one that soars higher and higher with the smiling clouds travel across boundaries till I could reach you and sit next to you singing sappy love songs to make you happy. If dreams were wishes vÕwi` I would dream that I could surpass beyond invisible barriers >VÀÃÃÌiyÃÞVÕÀÌ> that separates us to be right next to you at this very moment my eyes drinking you my body warming you and my heart loving you. By Aminath Neena. Aminath is an English lecturer from the pictur- esque archipelago nation of the Maldives. An avid lover of words, poetry is a hobby closest to her heart. Her poems usually revolve around themes such as love, relationships, spirituality, society, and global issues. Her poems are published or forthcoming in a range of international platforms like the Trouvaille Review, Spillwords, Open Door Poetry Magazine, Fiddles & Scribbles, Inspired magazine and Borderless Journal. Aminath holds an MA. in TESOL from the Uni- ÛiÀÃÌÞv ÌÌ}>°-iLiiÛiÃiÀÜÀÌ}ÃÌLi>ÀiyiVÌv her thoughts, her feelings and her life. If thoughts ÜiÀi«ÀiÌÌÞyÜiÀÃ I would think that I had blossomed into a sassy rose whose fragrance is carried across the seven seas ÜÌÌiy>Ì}LÀiiâi to reach your nostrils and let you slumber into blissful dreamland. 9 A ÀÃi>ÌÈ\{x° iVi>]LiÃi`ÕVi`LÞ>v a dozen emails rising through early morning shadows. The same as every other morning, except for mornings where there’s inexplicably i>ÃÀ>«>ÌÀÞÕLiÀ£ÀÓ° ½Ì«i emails until after breakfast, though. And try not to think of their contents. But that’s futile. They creep into your mind with manic precision. Are they lit mag responses? Invitations to parties? You try not to dream too much. You still store the rejections from writing contests you entered after a couple glasses of nightly Merlot. And you still recall the attempts to start a ÛiVÕL]`iy>Ìi` like balloons. Old friends and strangers alike said maybe they’d join next week, maybe next month. Maybe, of course, was and still is the most obvious form of ‘no’. Your mother and older sister Nan always promise to visit too, but things keep tripping them up. Teaching duties for Mom, Nan’s duties as a reporter for a venerable paper, covering movies and culture. They proclaim love, but love is a painful thing when spoken from a distance, something that holds the past, holds reminders of being part of a unit. It’s just you now. You, Nicholas Alexander Botkin, are the inhabitant of this apartment. The master of half-empty spaces, rife with chipped oak desks and plastic bowls and cups. Or half-full, the optimists would say. You are a man whose fridge holds eggs, Diet Pepsi, TV dinners, and onions. On top of that, you live in editing gigs and tutoring services. And of course, you have }ÌÞ LÌÌiÃ v ÃÕ«iÀyÕÕÃ] Õ>vvÀ`>Li Merlot and episodes of ‘Barry’ and ‘Curb Your Enthusiasm’. *ÕÀ Ìi wÀÃÌ v >Þ VÕ«Ã v iÌ *i«Ã° /i day will be long. For breakfast, have your customary eggs with toast dipped in it. There’s something soothing Ì>Ì >VÌ] > Ìi`iÀ] Vw`iÌ Ì] ÞiÜ and brown mingling. A colourful explosion. You always eat at 7:00. At least you have some sense of time. Wash the bowls, trudge back to your white- walled room. 7:17. The day is long. At least time hasn’t slipped. Open the emails, but not in one burst. Unfurl each like packages that Mom and Nan got you back when adulthood was on the precipice, but still oddly seemed far away. When funny hoodies and gift cards seemed like the sweetest things and when the packaging itself seemed even sweeter, festooned in shades of lavender, navy blue, gold. An acceptance from a lit mag would be good. An indicator that you’re not just reacting to the world, but acting. Putting yourself out there, submitting with fervency, transmitting your opuses (or opera, to use the technically correct «ÕÀ>®° Ûi v ÃÌÀiÃ >LÕÌ ÀÕ>Ü>Þ «>ÀiÌÃ and drunks in the suburbs are the ultimate cliché, you are fearless. You are the man who submits to A Morning Ritual 10 But you took Hitler, anyway. Ì½ÃÇ\ÓÇ° You might as well walk. Fortify responsibility. You need positivity. What’s more positive than pale blue skies and white puffy clouds, the smell of coffee wafting from the coffee shop around the corner with its smiling yellow walls? Out in the morning, you absorb coffee, pot, even pizza, mixtures mingling. Even the march of students to campus offers a certain cheer, even though ÞÕvii>ViÀÌ>>ÝiÌÞ>ÌÌiÃ]>Ã}iw}ÕÀi among these seas of sociability. Maybe you can steal a snatch of laughter, absorb a dirty joke about sex, even a broad smile which they still wear, even though the students are certainly old enough to be cynical. Walk slow. Walk very slow. Drag each step, absorb each clickety-clack of feet on pavement. Absorb the way the pale blue and white cast fresh shadows on the streets and rooftops. Take comfort in the last patches of snow. Watch the world move and remember what it means to feel ambition. Love. The day is long. By Yash Seyedbagheri. Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA wVÌ «À}À>° Ã ÃÌÀiÃ] ¼-½] ¼Ü / Be A Good Episcopalian’, and ‘Tales From A Communion Line’, have been nominated for Pushcarts. Yash’s work has been published in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, and Ariel Chart, among others. Insertico by Rosa Gravino Pieces by Rosa Gravino. She was born, lives and works in Cañada de Gómez, Argentina. She graduated from the School of Fine Arts, National University of Rosario Visual artist whose work consists mainly of Objects, Artist’s Books and Visual Poetry. She has participated in numerous exhibitions in her country and abroad. Her works are part of important public and private col- lections and her Visual Poems have been published in art magazines, books and digital media. 11 Time Time can speed up slow down turn back travel Stop By Carl ‘Papa’ Palme in Ridgeway, Virginia Place, Washington. H the military and Ƃ`ÃÌÀ>Ì ƂƂ® ‘Papa’ to his grand being a Franciscan Ho 12 The Year Has Its Hours The Year Has Its Hours A moment will shine on itself, then go, leaving matters, hooks, and time. To write about this year may take forever. Though we work at aspects repaying with lies; the ones we tell ourselves; our stories unwind, so, perhaps we’ll remember the good ones, any, which holds to truth. By Antoni Ooto. Antoni is an internationally published poet and y>Ã wVÌ ÜÀÌiÀ° 7iÜ for his abstract expressionist art, Antoni now adds his voice to poetry. Reading and studying the works of many poets has opened up another means of self-expression. Time Clock Terrorists Last to arrive the bell has rung they barrel into the time clock line the clock hasn’t yet clicked over to ‘one’ You can set your watch with this smoke break band sitting in restroom stalls with cigarettes and cellphones in hand /iÞ½ÀiwÀÃÌÌÌiVÀÜ>Ûi to warm up their lunch 7iÀiÜiÀiÌiÞ>ÌwÛiÕÌiÃÌLÀi> I’ll bet you have a hunch Clean-up done and ready to leave camped out promptly at ten ‘til crowded around the time clock like hyenas surrounding a kill The clock ticks to top of the hour and expressing considerable sorrow they punch out before the ringing dies so they can do it all again tomorrow By Douglas V. Miller. Douglas is an author of 17 chapbooks, a bible study, and two novels, and he re- sides in Northeast Indiana. 13 14 INTERview with aN AUthor How did you get into writing? Weirdly, from gaming – as in tabletop role-playing games. That was my creative/story outlet for years, and then TSR brought out the Dragonlance novels, which were books writing up a D&D campaign. That basically bridged the gap in my head from me, as a gamer, and Weiss and Hickman as professional authors, and I felt ‘I can do that!’. And I couldn’t, as it happened, because it takes work and practice and a long honing of writing style, but it was the start. Throughout the novel, there are very interesting differences between the spiders’ societal advancements to human development – why did you use spiders instead of the more obvious monkeys to demonstrate this? The spiders predate the book. Dr Fiona Cross’s research into the Portia labiata species was the inspiration, because she showed how fearfully bright the little spider is, far better at problem solving and complex ‘thinking’ than received wisdom says a spider should be. I wanted to run a thought experiment to see what might happen if the species had a clear run at becoming a dominant sentient species. And monkeys and other primates have been done by other writers. And I like spiders but I don’t really have much attachment to monkeys. And, frankly, Gareth Powell knocks them out of the park in Ack-Ack Macaque and Hive Monkey. And the humans in the spaceship – we see what happens when the aim becomes to survive, whatever the cost, especially with an authoritarian rule. It’s quite an uncomfortable look into the human psyche. What was your inspiration behind that? Well I feel quite uncomfortable about humans, so that kind of comes out in the book. I write about human power and capability dynamics as I see them (and to be frank, little in the intervening years since I ÜÀÌiÌiL>ÛiÀi>ÞÃvÌi`iÌ>Ì®°Ƃ` the human culture that limps off Earth for Kern’s World and the spiders is very much a ‘What Rough Beast’ sort of event. They’re a badly broken culture poured into a spaceship without anyone really thinking about how it’s going to work in the long run. Also there’s an obvious dynamic and contrast between the spiders, on their upward evolutionary curve, and the decline of their parent human culture. Portia (or the different generations of Portia) is often a more relatable character than any of the humans on the spaceship – do you think that is because the humans no longer resemble a humanity that we would recognise now? The humans resemble modern humanity very closely. They are us, and their culture is built from our ruins in our image. The spiders are arguably more sympathetic because they aren’t us. They certainly >ÛiÌiÀÜÌiÀ>VyVÌÃ>`«ÀLiÃ]LÕÌ they have a thread of empathy to them that makes them sympathetic. Also I suspect that my own love of spiders comes out heavily on the page. What’s the next project that you’re working on? As it happens, I have literally just sent off a submission draft of the third Children book to my agent, hopefully for onward transmission to the publisher. There’s already one sequel out in Children of Ruin, of course, and this will be another step further still. I’m now working on a new novella for Rebellion, a story of someone getting lost in a strange place to follow Walking to Aldabaran and One Day All This Will Be Yours. And lastly, as this is our Time issue, if you could live in any time period, including the future, what would it be and why? I’d love to visit various eras of the prehistoric past, but I suppose I wouldn’t want to live there. If there is a Culture-esque Banksian post-scarcity future out there, that would be the one for me. Otherwise... Well, there’s an oft-repeated maxim about time travel that most periods are great if you have some modern kit and are of the right demographic to live as a rich person. I’d like to go back to the Harappan civilization of the Indus Valley and future-proof it so that it stuck around, maybe. It seems to have been pleasantly enlightened, what with big cities with all sorts of mod cons long before the Romans came along, and no big house for rich people. Words by Grace Balfour-Harle A `À> /V>ÛÃÞ Ã > ÃViViwVÌ >` v>Ì>ÃÞ >ÕÌÀ° Ã L] `Ài v /i] Ã ÃiÌ Ìi distant future where the remnants of humanity need to move on from Earth and set off on an epic ÕÀiÞÌw`>iÜ«>iÌ°/iÞ`ÃVÛiÀ>ÜÀ`ÌiÀÀ>vÀi`>`«Ài«>Ài`vÀÕ>vi° ÕÌ>ÃÌ right in this new Eden. The planet is not pristine and unoccupied. New masters have turned it from a refuge into mankind’s worst nightmare. Who will be victorious in this collision of two civilisations? “Well I feel quite uncomfortable about humans, so that kind of comes out in the book” 15 THE GALLERY THE GALLERY This weeks Gallery features work by Natalie Leanne. She is a self-taught photoshop artist from a small town in the UK. She posts daily on her Instagram page with a focus on dreamy, whimsical images. After a tribute image of hers went viral attracting favourable comments from Hollywood A-listers, she has now made available a number of her images as prints on Etsy and is also available for personalised commissions. 16 17 18 19 20