In this series of three time lapse videos originally sent to us as part of the April Flash Contest, blogger BlueJay brings a unique style to the genre of food blogging. In each video, we watch as the food—and in one case the dish—in front of us disappears in distinct frames. The minimal white background lends to a futuristic, postmodern vision surrounding the concepts of consumption and documentation. These videos, like the food they center, are a treat—enjoy! Baked https://stonesoup.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Baked_JayaKhurana.mp4 Zest https://stonesoup.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Zest_JayaKhurana.mp4 Heliotrope https://stonesoup.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/06/Heliotrope_JayaKhurana.mp4
Young Bloggers
Shadow, a reflection by Mason, 8
Mason Li, 8 A shadow is behind each step I take. When you see your shadow, it means you’re in darkness. When you don’t, it means you’re in light. America before was in darkness. But America is taking steps out of darkness and into light. Right now, America is in pain. Look at before slavery – a man named Marin Luther King Jr. He saw his shadow and took steps higher and higher to peace. All soldiers saw their shadows and took steps to braveness. Now America is in the shadow of Covid-19, but it won’t be covered for long because we’re taking steps out like before. We see glimpses of lightness each day. Everyday one glimpse to two to three to four and higher. That means that we’re climbing, too, like before the inventions of technology, but it’s health not engineering. One day we will take our steps out of Covid-19.
My Sanctuary, a poem by Otis, 13
Otis Knoop, 13 On some days, I just like to walk Across the street and into the park Contemplating life. Around me, nature is content. Leaves swirl around my figure The large trees sway as I walk by The clouds darken, casting a blanket over the treetops My sanctuary. As the flora and fauna alike prepare for the oncoming rain Winged seeds come floating down, puppets under the wind The breeze picks up, as the wind howls like a brute The first raindrops kiss my cheeks as I stare up into the clouds and smile. My sanctuary. Thunder rumbles, lightning cracks, and the squirrels quiver, deep in their dens And then the rain comes, buckets that pour down until they are swallowed by the soil Providing sustenance for the sapling, but comfort for the old tired oak And I am in the center of it all. My sanctuary. I lay down in the wet grass as the storm passes, beads of sunshine dancing on my face The park is life The park is death Thunder, lighting, chaos, and then calm arises. A continuous cycle of problems and solutions, living and dying, joy, and sadness. I wash away the dirt clouding my mind and come back to it. My sanctuary. As I lay there, the cool, wet air enveloping me, I know that I have escaped. From the screens, the eyes, the faces, the boxes, the masks, the tests, the tears, and the pain. I get up, the mud clawing at my clothes, wishing me to stay like the host of a party. The party of ugliness and beauty that surrounds us all And as I stare, I see the sun parting the clouds like a curtain, and my thoughts turn homeward.
