on one side is a deep breath. on the other, the pull to destruction. maybe writing / Anastasia Kontchaeva
everything has fallen apart – or maybe together, but it feels like a wreck I can’t bear to leave. I always go into the snake pit when I know full well the creature is full of poison even when it sleeps. photo / Yvone Shee writing / Anastasia Kontchaeva Continue reading “Replicåh | Kinetic Love”
I was gonna sow your seeds you keep talking about winter about nuclear sun all i see is green turning brown photo / greg pths
Everything will turn out right, the world is built on that
I never thought how beautiful things will look from far away
Kiss me and you will see how important I am.
If you can see it, it can see you. That’s true of just about anything
I thought I would be understood without words
J’aime the little wooden matchsticks (allumettes!) with rose-colored combustive tips, which I light the gas stove with to make café au lait in the morning
There is no island above. It’s just blue, blue.