Calliope is a session in Journalism where we gather to write and share pieces based on the selected topic! This week’s theme is Exposure! We have pieces about photography, public speaking, erosion and more…
Celeste
put you into the frame of any picture,
and you’d blind everyone.
put you into a single frame of an animation,
and everyone’ll stop at that exact frame,
just to stop and admire your beauty.
i’d say you’re the perfect picture,
but you’re just a little overexposed.
no, sorry. you’re too overexposed,
blinding and covering the entire picture with light,
from your exquisite being.
it’s like you’re a sun,
radiating warmth that spreads through my entire body.
you cheer up my entire being,
and you’re the only overexposed photo i’ll ever love.
i think i spoke enough.
i love you.
p.s. photograph-y enough for you? i think my new nickname for you is exposure.
Cheng Jie
Wind, its soft whispers, unseen
Wispy breeze lifts veils of green
Timid leaves, they twist and twine
Telling tales line by line
Rain, an artist, soft and slow
Rarely adorns a mellow glow
Each drop a stroke on earth’s skin
Etching secrets held within
Sunlight, bold, with golden flair
Scatters shadows, lays earth bare
Illuminating each crack and seam
Inviting all that dare to dream
The wind, the rain, the sun, they dance
Trapping all in their trance
Erosion’s hand, slow and sure
Exposes the core – the heart so pure
Ever so relentless, nature’s force
Exposes truth with no remorse
Amidst every crack, in every fold
A hidden story to be told
Eleos
I crawl
Into the dampened bubble of the sphere
Masked, in civilian clothing
Just like anyone else
Pushing it into the depths of my heart
I breathe
Bringing in fresh air
Cleansing the shame, the embarrassment
Rinsing it out
Slowly saturating the gas
Every since I left the school gate.
Never tell Po Po,
Don’t tell anyone
How you ended up here!
You’re a shame big enough as it is.
The realisation is layered
Stacked, reinforced
Like the layers of the kueh
Like the pages of assessment book
After assessment book
After assessment book.
It is only when I am not who I am told,
It is only when I look like the others,
It is only when I take off the uniform
That I can be myself again,
Without the letters
I-T-E burned into my skin.
Elgin
1820s
2020s
A wealthy and experienced aristocrat and chemist
A young teenager still in school
A large polished sheet of pewter, coated with resin and lavender oil
A smartphone sensor less than one cubic centimeter
Fixed on a wooden mount, with five kilograms’ worth of lenses
Light and portable, fitting in a pocket
Carefully adjusting the aperture
Done automatically by A.I.
A dimly-lit room, hours to wait
Anywhere she wants, less than 1/100 of a second
A tedious darkroom and chemical process develops the negative
Instantly ready and saved to the phone
Monochromatic, hardly visible, low-resolution and littered with unwanted spots
48 megapixels, full HDR color, crystal-clear and lifelike
Bulky, sensitive and costly to transport
Sent across the globe in one click
The first of its kind
One after trillions
One single exposure
One single exposure
Ri-Yen
we live our lives looking through a lens
the comfortable weight of our phones in our hands
phones’ gallery trumping our memory
what’s more important than the pictures we take
not to mention, it’s quality?
turn down the exposure when you take pictures at a concert
don’t sing along
keep your hand still to film your favourite singer
and you’ll have a good video to rewatch
capture these memories so you don’t forget
because with less emotion comes less to recollect
the ones branded in your mind? that’s an exception
though the pictures taken then received no attention
feelings remain, circumstances change
time changes everything
but in a world we watch through our screen
we must not forget about living
Giselle
he was a school bully,
she was his victim
her love language was acts of service and words of affirmation,
while his was words of hatred and acts of ostracising
she was a heartfelt romantic,
whilst he had no relationship exposure
yet what drew the both of them together
was a bright shining light and its partner of the dark
they were complete opposites,
yet the one thing that joined them together
was the camera panning over to the stars,
the moon and the sun, just like what they are.
one day, the sun and moon merged,
as they turned the exposure down to capture the eclipse’s worth.
the light and the dark both together, like the moon and the sun,
would hover over the sky, shining ever so bright.
entering their relationship of an enemy to lover classic,
she was the epitome of xeniality,
pathetic antics of
bullying being his personality
the sun and moon colliding in the world together,
she changed him to become understanding
and he taught her how to earn respect,
together, they shone, everlastingly.
what used to be of their bully-victim relationship,
had now evolved and in their second life,
they would finally complement each other,
shining bright together with high exposure.
Disclaimer: We do not condone bullying.
Kai
i stand on stage. a circle of light surrounds me, illuminating me, and me only.
i look in front of me. millions of souls glare back at me.
i shiver, perhaps from the cold. it was my turn to act.
i raise my hands. they reflect the sun’s brightness straight back at me.
i shuffle my feet. they slide, perhaps the floor was slippery.
i breath in. a breathe of icy air enters my lungs.
i fiddle with my fingers. i don’t feel anything.
i listen. to the pindrop silence and the overstimulating loudness.
i think. voices resonate with me, guiding me.
i hesitate. perhaps for hours.
i wait for my cue. for a long time.
i stand there. as if back where i started.
i look in front of me. millions of souls glare back at me.
i shiver, perhaps from the cold. it was my turn to act.
i raise my hands. they reflect the sun’s brightness straight back at me.
i shuffle my feet. they slide, perhaps the floor was slippery.
i breath in. a breathe of icy air enters my lungs.
i fiddle with my fingers. i don’t feel anything.
i listen. to the pindrop silence and the overstimulating loudness.
i think. voices resonate with me, guiding me.
i hesitate. perhaps for hours.
i wait for my cue. for a long time.
and now, i try.
i radiate confidence.
i grab the microphone.
and i break out of my shell.
Kyan
if only I could evade
the lights
the visibility
the vulnerability
to fire, being burnt
to a crisp, cracking
under pressure
to be exposed to
a stream
a torrent
an outpouring
of people
gradually eroding away
my identity
if only I could move
freely, like the breeze
behind my back
not the storm
that encircles me
pushes me
to follow
its course
Renee
Last week at noon I took the green line down
To City Hall and walked under the sizzling sun.
Half-baked, you and I
Sought refuge at the Peranakan Museum
Air con blasting, the gallery took us back in time,
With ornate furniture and black and white portraits,
Before 3°C meant anything to anyone.
Hanging discreetly on a wall, they looked
Out of place and time — two large printed pictures
Immortalising the rooms of a modern HDB.
“Overnight long-exposure photography”, said the sign,
And I looked again, imagining the humble camera
Diligently capturing the still room for hours upon hours,
As the home’s occupants slept.
“Look, you can see how the artificial light looks
Very bright compared to the window,” you say,
Pointing at the almost-white splodge in the centre.
From dusk till dawn, the little lamp outshone the window,
Its tiny bulb’s light captured by the camera.
I know that if I stepped into the frame,
The room would be cool, filled with night air,
Nearby frog songs carried in by a wind.
In that picture where time stood still,
The sun would never rise past the horizon,
Drying up dew and burning leaves brittle.
Skylar
Once, I just happened to wake up in an unfamiliar concrete box
Lying on the cold, hard ground
Surrounded by four solid walls
While slipping between awakening and unconsciousness
Without any indication, it was impossible to guess the minutes, hours, or days it took to finally get up
Only to realise the cold aching throughout my entire body
And the rhythmic dripping of water on my head, streaming down my neck and back, uncomfortably clinging on
That came from the ceiling, through small little cracks, where a small ray of light could barely pierce through
I quickly reach up high
Twisting my fingers between the broken cracks to dig through
Regardless of the dirt and stone that gets stuck under my fingernails, or showers down on me,
The careless scratches don’t stop me either
Until a wide enough hole appears, exposing me to the brilliant blue sky
Next, I fumble through unbuttoning my shirt to bathe under the bright sunlight
Relief spreading with the warm air over my exposed skin
A faint rush of wind reminds me to stretch out my wings
I’m no longer trapped in this enclosure
Tyra
“Exposure: the fact of experiencing something or being affected by it because of being in a particular situation or place.” I said to myself, as I looked at the script in my hands one last time. “Emily, you’re up in 3 minutes.” Someone shouted from outside the dressing room. I sighed.
I sighed. Why had I agreed to this? Oh right, Ms Tan had encouraged me to.
“Ever considered acting?” She had said, “If you want, you can sign up for the Hamlet show we’re doing next month.” “I don’t think I can…” I had declined. She held my hands and looked at me. “You just need exposure. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
Later that day, I had Googled the meaning of exposure. I stared at it for a long enough time to have its definition memorized.
Knock! Knock! Someone knocked at my door, bringing me back to reality. “It’s almost your queue.” I put the script down, stood up and headed for the stage.
“Exposure: the fact of experiencing something or being affected by it because of being in a particular situation or place.” I thought, just as it was my queue to step on stage. Well, here goes nothing. And with that, I enter the scene.
Yvette
December creeps into sights:
Droplets falling, bare branches
Lines against the remaining light,
Listen- a twig on the ground crunches.
Stars frequent the sky by dusk.
A shooting star, glimmering as it falls;
Lost to time, the all-consuming mask
Lets out a howl, a plea, a call.
How long have I been here?
Trapped, nowhere to go
My mind, encased in bars of fear
The sun bids its farewell, a final show
But if I never step away,
Nothing will happen if I stay.
nushpress 