Alena's Euphoric Quill

Pearl+Lena corner vlog link: Vlog interview: Books vs Movies Pages vs. Pictures: Why Are More Young People Choosing the Screen Over the Page? Last semester, I had the chance to interview people from different backgrounds for my CA 2 vlogging assignment. I asked them a simple question: Do you prefer books or movies? To my surprise, most of them chose movies. I expected at least a few more people to side with books, but apart from Megha and Libi, almost everyone leaned toward films. Even Pearlina’s friends had the same response. This made me stop and think. If I had asked this question ten years ago, the answer might have been different. Books were once the go-to escape, the doorway to new worlds, and the source of so many childhood dreams. But today, movies have taken that place for a lot of people. As someone who loves both, I couldn’t help but wonder: What is it about movies that books can’t quite offer? Why Are Movies Winning Over Books? Super Fast Express We live in a world where ev...

It’s not about the roses, not the petals soft as whispers, nor the scent that lingers like a dream fading in the morning light. It’s about the hands that picked them, the quiet pause before the gift, the unspoken hope in trembling fingers, Will this make you smile? It’s not about the grandeur, not moonlit serenades or diamond rings, but the way your name sounds when said with love, the way silence hums between us, full of things we never need to say. It’s not about the roses. It never was. It’s about the love that stays long after the flowers fade.

Those beautiful smiles, A powerful reflection, Love, care, and affection, Truly portrayed in the proud faces. Eyes that glisten with stories untold, Hearts that shine in hues of gold. Watching me rise, step by step, Holding my dreams with hands they kept. Their voices echo, strong and bright, Whispering faith in darkest nights. Through every fall, their hands remain, Lifting me up, easing the pain. The pride they wear, so pure, so true, In every word, in all I do. For I am their hope, their endless light, A dream fulfilled, a future bright.

There was a time when pink felt like a forced identity, something the world expected me to love simply because I was a girl. It was everywhere, from the clothes gifted to me as a child to the stationary sets labeled "for girls." It felt limiting, as if I was being boxed into an idea of femininity. Pink felt powerless, fragile and limited. So, I resisted. I distanced myself from pink, almost as if rejecting it would prove that I was more than just a stereotype. Before, I used to love Barbie dolls and during this 'pink hate era' I acted like I hated it. I simply didn't want it to define who I was-- Fragile, weak and trapped plastic.  But then, something changed. Maybe it was growing up, maybe it was realizing that strength and softness can coexist. One day, I saw pink not as a label but as a color, just like any other, but with a charm of its own. It was warm, nostalgic, and full of quiet confidence. The same color I once dismissed became the shade of my favorite s...

This is a personal book review of Red Verses by Pearlina Gracelyn. Pearlina is my best friend, but did I truly know how deep her thoughts ran? No. While reading this book, it felt as if I was not just turning the pages but unveiling the chapters of her life. It’s raw, real, and straight from her heart, something you can feel with every word. The words are beautifully yet simply crafted, resonating deeply with the reader. This is not just a collection of poems but an outpouring of emotions printed onto paper. I could sense how much courage and vulnerability it must have taken for her to write these pieces, and that makes the book even more profound. I don’t know if it was mere coincidence, but I truly loved how the poem "My Wedding Day" ended with the verse "As husband and wife." That single line, placed on a separate page, made it so much more impactful. The simplicity of dedicating one page to such a significant line brought out the true essence of the poem’s subje...

  The sun brushes against winter's chill, a quiet warmth that holds no urgency. Beneath bare branches and silver skies, it lingers softly, turning frost to fleeting gold. A pause in the season's breath, a whisper of something tender, not meant to stay. You close your eyes, letting the light settle on your skin— a gift without demand. In this stillness, you understand the language of the sun, its fleeting promise, its silent offering of presence.