From Russia With Love
.
time has passed
and I don’t know where I stand
with the idea of still having
remnants of you
.
.
photo / Tamara Lichtenstein
writing / berlin macuixtle (Thank You For Nothing Zine)
I moan a weird prayer for peace
after all we deserve a new start
We were here &
looked right into the sun
photo / Sumyko
writing / FRANK SHERLOCK
The flashes of the explosions are close enough
to touch if you wanted to burn your fingers
on the sky, and the glare rocks our shadows back
against the brick, as if chaos snapped
our pictures in the dark.
photo / 美撒郭
writing / BILL ZAVATSKY
I couldn’t answer you. Still.
My lips moved at you silently.
They offered words you never heard.
writing / ELENA MINOR
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
i’m in the eye of this tame hurricane
on the brink of the edge
of the building
where was your gaze
when I came for you?
photo / Edie Sunday
I knew i was going to die. and I wanted to do it in New York. whatever was going to happen, was going to happen. This is where the camera slows down, zooms in on the tennis ball grazing the net, in the middle of the court. will I go left or will I go right?
HAPPENS IN THAT BACKSEAT.
DEVIL’S WORK,
RED PANTIES.
365 HOURS A WEEK
photo / (x)99.
writing / Kendall Hill
Fresh are the berries that we use to pick,
from our daydream valleys. Filled with
pauses and short breaths,
when we roll in the dusty paths.
photo / Piero Donadeo
writing / Kendall Hill
I pray the time passes quickly.
For I know, like we all do, that the sun must rise again.
photo / Cameron Schiller
writing / Kendall Hill