THE CLIO

Written by: Jo Tam “Did you know flights towards Europe are now passing through the North Pole to reach their destination? That takes a hell lot more time, don’t you think?” With wild, startled eyes, I dragged my gaze across the room to my sister, who voiced those words with a twitch at the corner of her mouth. Outside our window was the vast night sky, my sister’s screen reflected on the glass. Flight booking websites, I saw, casting a glaring shade of light upon the dim voi

Written by: Fatima Omer America and Iran sat on one table after decades. Pakistan reached a new level of significance in modern geopolitics. Israel and Lebanon had a ceasefire, which Israel violated on the very day of announcement. Samud flotilla started sailing for Gaza, got intercepted. Oil crisis led to numerous countries imposing policies like fuel rationing and remote working. Assassination attempt in Whitehouse gathering. Dear April, you began with hopes for peace lik

Written by: Alessandra Joelle There is an obvious contradiction in longing for the better while settling for less. In a country burdened with recurring struggles, this silence between us becomes deafening. We wish for bravery, and yet the moment it stands before us—we turn away. We constantly demand for accountability, yet excuse complacency. Why is it that the very courage we long for becomes something we resist when it asks something from us? Why do we deny what we have alw

Written by: Alessandra Joelle Art by: Andrea Lastimosa There is a particular kind of grief that does not belong to us, yet settles into our bodies as if it does. It arrives quietly—through interviews watched at midnight, through cracked voices on stage, through lyrics that confess pain we have never lived but somehow recognize. Known as ‘parasocial grief’, a borrowed mourning, where the fan processes their own unresolved trauma by tending to the visible wounds of an artist.

Written and made by: Alessandra Joelle It was April 15th when I first got my first digital camera—a small, gold camera, accompanied by a 256gb memory card—I remember thinking that the number felt excessive, that 256 gb was meant for someone with a fuller life than mine. I didn’t know then that the year would slowly lean into me, that my hands would learn the weight of documenting without intention. The memory filled itself gently, with moments I didn’t recognize as important

Written by: Fatima Studying for my test on WW1, my mother's voice caught my attention. “The annual Karachi book fair is from 18-22 December. Fatima, start preparing your list.” In a moment, Serbian nationalist groups and Archduke Ferdinand’s visit to Bosnia got pushed back and only one thought became prominent: It’s December again. December, a symbol of conclusion, a time not only to rewind but also prepare. A month that makes you ask yourself, “Did I do enough?” So to answer

Written by: Renee Description: An open-letter to my former best friend. My greatest what-if, the one I lost. To my greatest what if, Hey, How are you? Another year is about to pass again, And here I am, still writing another open-letter for you. I’m still thinking about you. After all these years. It’s been almost a decade since we last talked, I think. And I’m still here. Thinking about you. I wonder if you’re thinking about me too? Probably not. And I understand. It’s okay