Bridgewater College Digital Commons

Ferguson, Abigail

Philomathean 
Volume 4 MMXXV: Secrets Article 27 
December 2024 
Photos of Her 
Abigail Ferguson 
Bridgewater College, aferguson3@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Ferguson, Abigail (2024) "Photos of Her," Philomathean: Vol. 4, Article 27. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol4/iss1/27 
This Art is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
Photos of Her
By Abigail Ferguson






Abigail Ferguson studies Music Education at Bridgewater College.


English

Photos of Her

Hamilton, Sam

Philomathean 
Volume 4 MMXXV: Secrets Article 43 
12-5-2024 
Secret Mission 
Sam Hamilton 
Bridgewater College, shamilton@bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Hamilton, Sam (2024) "Secret Mission," Philomathean: Vol. 4, Article 43. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol4/iss1/43 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
Secret Mission
By Sam Hamilton
lead principled lives of purpose and consequence
l i e s
d o n on e
pr o u d
lead lives of
principle l es s
in consequence
and
n o purpose
d e pose
princ es
pr o pose
d an ce
le n d p r ose and
ve r se
lea p in
p i l es of
lea ves
l i ves an s
purpose
d i e s an s
consequence
Sam Hamilton teaches Professional Writing at Bridgewater College.


Secret Mission

Green, Caroline

Philomathean 
Volume 4 MMXXV: Secrets Article 2 
December 2024 
The Sister I Never Had 
Caroline Green 
Bridgewater College, cgreen2@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Green, Caroline (2024) "The Sister I Never Had," Philomathean: Vol. 4, Article 2. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol4/iss1/2 
This Art is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
The Sister I Never Had
By Caroline Green
Caroline Green studies Digital Media Arts at Bridgewater College.


The Sister I Never Had

Lutz, Valerie

Philomathean 
Volume 4 MMXXV: Secrets Article 14 
December 2024 
The Other Door 
Valerie Lutz 
Bridgewater College, vlutz@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Lutz, Valerie (2024) "The Other Door," Philomathean: Vol. 4, Article 14. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol4/iss1/14 
This Art is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
The Other Door
By Valerie Lutz
Valerie Lutz studies Business Administration at Bridgewater College.


The Other Door

Allen, Willow

Philomathean 
Volume 4 MMXXV: Secrets Article 32 
December 2024 
Sour Coins 
Willow Allen 
Bridgewater College, wallen@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Allen, Willow (2024) "Sour Coins," Philomathean: Vol. 4, Article 32. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol4/iss1/32 
This Fiction is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
Sour Coins
By Willow Allen
At ten years old, Amelia swallowed her first penny. Small and coppery, it tasted like the sour blood that oozed
from her knees after her brother, Leo, had pushed her onto the pavement days before. He laughed when she
had started crying, shakily drawing her knees close to her chest and peering at the deep red, touching her
tongue to the blood before she could stop herself. She knew not to tell anyone that he had pushed her that
day or that she had swallowed that penny because of him days later.
She knew that she would get in trouble for swallowing the coin if her mom ever found out. But she also knew
that her brother snuck downstairs late at night, as everyone else lay in their beds, and watched MTV, the
channel their mother detested for its inappropriate language. She knew that her mother still smoked
cigarettes, Marlboro Reds, hidden from the girl’s father behind the dark green garden that had recently
become overgrown. She also knew that her father did not work as much as he said and was much too friendly
with one of his coworkers. Amelia knew a lot of things that had to be kept secret.
When she compared her own secret to that of her family, Amelia didn’t think swallowing a penny was that
bad. It was better than staying up past bedtime watching bad shows or smoking cigarettes or kissing women
who were not your wife. Perhaps, in swallowing this first penny, and feeling it slowly travel down her throat
and into her belly, she was more a part of her family than she had ever been.
At thirteen years old, she swallowed three dimes in quick succession. They were shiny and silver, as dimes
usually are. The coins did not taste of much but were warm from her small fists squeezing them while she
thought about what she was going to do. This was after Leo told his young sister that their mother didn’t like
her; that she hated her. He told Amelia that was why she had left them. Their mother could not stand to look
at her, so she had to go far away.
The girl knew that her brother did not know what he was talking about. And yet, she found herself staring
blankly into her bathroom mirror late into the night wondering if maybe he was right. Her father had begun
looking at Amelia less and less, and when he did, she could feel his contempt. Maybe nobody could stand to
look at her. She sat once she had that thought, laughing to herself on her bathroom floor, heavy with sadness.
After a few months alone with her thoughts, the girl rose from her crumpled position on the dirty, tiled floor.
She unlocked the bathroom door and walked quietly to her living room.
She sat on the opposite side of the couch as her brother, and they silently watched MTV while the deep dark
of the night sky slowly turned to daylight. They stopped only to go outside and take small pulls of their
mother’s old Marlboro Reds, adding their coughs to the cacophony of bird song.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” Leo mumbled quietly. “I just want her to come back.”
As the gray smoke swirled and soured the thick air between them, she wondered how long life would be like
this. Together, they waited for their father –and their mother– to come home. The girl kept several coins in
her pocket, allowing her hands to trail over their ridges, knowing that, unlike others, some decisions were still
her own.
At fifteen years old, the girl’s father hesitantly took her to the hospital after noticing that she hadn’t eaten in
several days. Leo, whom Amelia had grown close with since the year that their mother left, had gone to
college. Without her brother at home with her, she had felt more alone than ever before. She watched MTV
and smoked cigarettes at all hours of the day, hoping that these secrets would bring someone, anyone, back
into her home. She had swallowed several coins throughout the year, and she wondered if, maybe, it had
finally caught up to her.
Despite the attention from not being able to eat, Amelia noticed her father’s annoyed expression that rested
on the thin line of his lips and the crease between his brows. She knew that he did not care. She wanted him
to care. She swallowed a final penny on the car ride there, careful to use the gray sleeve of her jacket to hide
what she was doing. He didn’t look over at her.
The doctors removed at least fifteen coins from her intestines. After a week at the hospital, Amelia was tired
of the stilted conversations with her father and concerned questions from nurses and Child Protective
Services. Her father didn’t hit her and there was always enough food in their kitchen, so she was sent home
with six stitches and a prescription for antidepressants.
As per the doctor’s orders, the girl switched from coins to pills. She told herself that they were the same, each
providing her a secret, sour comfort. And after a few months of taking her medicine, she didn’t care either
way.
Willow Allen studies Digital Media Arts, Strategic Communications, and Professional Writing at Bridgewater College.


Sour Coins

Surrealist Photography: Past, Present, and Future is a research project diving into surrealist photographers, contemporary photographers, and AI. Starting the paper, I give historical context on the movement including the founder Andre Breton, surrealist painters that either had a significant contribution or interesting way to create, themes explored, and techniques used. The surrealist photographers I researched are Man Ray, Angus McBean, and Claude Cahun. Then, I analyze the works of Erik Johansson, Pat Brassington, and Aida Muluneh and how their work is inspired by or has the vibe of surrealist photographs from the movement. Lastly, I start to explore the discussion of AI being surrealist in the way that it produces imagery, and also how augmented reality can be used to view art in a surrealist way

Kennedy, Carmen

Surrealist Photography: Past, Present, and Future

Archival photograph from Bridgewater College Special Collectionshttps://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/volleyball_photos/1001/thumbnail.jp

Bridgewater College

Bridgewater College, Volleyball action photograph featuring Tammy Massie, undated

Warren, Grace

Philomathean 
Volume 3 MMXXIV: Where Our Dreams Take Us Article 9 
2-14-2024 
Champion Fashioned in Fantasy 
Grace Warren 
Bridgewater College, gwarren@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Warren, Grace (2024) "Champion Fashioned in Fantasy," Philomathean: Vol. 3, Article 9. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol3/iss1/9 
This Art is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
Champion Fashioned in Fantasy
Grace Warren
Grace Warren studies Digital Media Arts at Bridgewater College


Champion Fashioned in Fantasy

Workman, Zoe

Philomathean 
Volume 3 MMXXIV: Where Our Dreams Take Us Article 15 
2-14-2024 
Never Ending Dream 
Zoe Workman 
Bridgewater College, zworkman@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Workman, Zoe (2024) "Never Ending Dream," Philomathean: Vol. 3, Article 15. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol3/iss1/15 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
Never Ending Dream
Zoe Workman
I awake from my dream,
but I’m still in a dream,
one that is never-ending.
I remind myself that I’m a person and
prepare myself for another day of this
recurring nightmare.
I slide out of bed.
My hands aren’t mine.
They’re distorted like my thoughts.
I brush my teeth and
try to avoid the reflection that looks
back at me.
Is that even me?
I can no longer tell.
It doesn’t look like me.
Who is that in the mirror?
I don’t have a face in my mind.
The one in the mirror startles me.
Oh no, I’ve looked too long.
I’ve stared in her eyes for minutes now.
My breathing gets heavier.
Where am I?
Who am I?
Why am I here?
I walk downstairs.
My father is in the kitchen,
but he doesn’t look like my father.
I talk to him, but he feels far away.
Like there’s a glass separating us.
Separating me from the world.
My parents aren’t real.
My friends aren’t real.
I’m not real.
I feel like nobody would hear me if I made a noise.
Like I will find out no one can see me.
That no one can understand me.
I look outside.
Everything looks fake.
When did everything lose its liveliness?
I sit in my bed.
I feel like I could disappear.
Maybe that would be better.
Zoe Workman studies Professional Writing at Bridgewater College


Never Ending Dream

Brown, Krista

Philomathean 
Volume 3 MMXXIV: Where Our Dreams Take Us Article 18 
2-14-2024 
the feeling of losing something you thought you'd know forever 
Krista Brown 
Bridgewater College, kbrown5@eagles.bridgewater.edu 
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean 
Recommended Citation 
Brown, Krista (2024) "the feeling of losing something you thought you'd know forever," Philomathean: Vol. 
3, Article 18. 
Available at: https://digitalcommons.bridgewater.edu/bc_philomathean/vol3/iss1/18 
This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by the Journals and Campus Publications at BC Digital 
Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Philomathean by an authorized editor of BC Digital Commons. For 
more information, please contact rlowe@bridgewater.edu. 
the feeling of losing something you thought you'd know forever
Krista Brown
i saw you last night for the first time in years
you looked just as i remembered and you told me
grip onto memories with your fiercest strength
remember everything you had and were
feel every part of yourself growing and changing
tell them the stories of your youth, your childhood
let me hold your hand just one more time
i would know your face anywhere
but you couldn’t stay
do not leave me here, scared and unsure
i am alone
and reaching for something that no longer exists
you are gone and so is my reflection
i miss you
but i carry you with me every day
you wouldn’t recognize me, but i would know you anywhere
the only dream i want to have again
Krista Brown studies Professional Writing at Bridgewater College
