Amoureux Zine Issue 1: "Familiarity"

AMOUREUX • ISSUE NO. 1

FAMILIAR

July 2020

WHAT DO YOU LOVE?

WHAT DO YOU LOVE? WHAT DO YOU LOVE? WHAT DO YOU LOVE?

WHAT DO YOU LOVE? WHAT DO YOU LOVE? WHAT DO YOU LOVE?

WHAT DO YOU LOVE?

NOTE FROM THE CURATOR Greeting to all reading, I hope this message finds you well. I just wanted to say thank you to all of those who have contributed to this issue. And much love to Kyle Miller, Fred Whitley, Mariana Marquez, Aiyanah Barnes, Kyra Ten-Brink and Rose Nixon-Poole for being such a great team! It's been a wild ride from start to finish and I hope it's all you hoped for and more.

Keep drawing, singing, dancing, creating or whatever you love to do.

See y'all later xx 1

Marion Kamara

Kylie Meyer

THE THEORIES OF DEJA VU BY MIA DREW CRENSHAW

THIS FEELS AWFULLY FAMILIAR

THREE THEORIES ON WHAT CAUSES DÉJÀ VU We’ve all experienced déjà vu before, that strange, unshakeable sense of having been in this exact spot and having done this exact thing before. Maybe it is simply because you have stood in your hallway at 5pm being yelled at by your mum for hoarding all the cups before, but maybe it’s caused by something else. To try and explain this phenomenon, here are some theories on what might cause you to experience déjà vu

1.MULTIPLE UNIVERSES: Starting off strong with a theory so confusing that I had to read about eight articles (of varying degrees of credibility) just to gain a vague understanding of it. This theory basically relies on the idea that there are parallel universes all around us vibrating at different frequencies (which, as crazy as it sounds, is a legitimate theory in physics). So déjà vu might be caused by you, in this universe, doing something similar to what you did in a universe that is close by.

Sadly this speculation is not particularly scientific and highly unlikely to be the reason for déjà vu.

2. THE TUNING FORK PHENOMENON: According to the Spiritual Research Foundation, 50% of déjà vu cases are caused by something called ‘the tuning fork phenomenon’. This one is a little more out there but stay with me. The Tuning Fork explanation is formed around the idea that each person's emotions and thoughts are emitted as frequencies or waves. The tuning fork phenomenon is when your frequencies temporarily match up with someone else's frequencies, cAusing you to ‘remember’ an experience that person had.

3. DUAL PROCESSING: This is definitely the most scientific of the theories and probably most accurate (although multiple universes does win the prize for coolest explanation).

Dr.James Giordano, a professor of neurology and biochemistry, explains it like this: “Déjà vu involves a number of brain networks, including those that function in sensory processes, memory, emotion, and decision-making.” Even though these processes occur in different parts of the brain, “this happens very quickly, and in most cases, information reaches the frontal cortex in a simultaneous, harmonized way.” In simple terms, when we have a new experience we unconsciously compare it to our past experiences in order to help us navigate it. Usually this happens nicely and in sync, sometimes however, one of the brain networks used in this process might ‘lag’ a bit, causing you to feel that jarring contrast of familiarity in an unfamiliar space.

3

4

Amina Wafta

Lucrezia Dipasquale

5

december musings.

words by: Louise Kim

On the 1 train, bustling Harlem every bump on the rail amplified under my sitting bones -my English teacher on her phone, acrossthe subway, a grey scarf and a ring on her resting body.do not hold doors, the subway tells me. do not lean on door;that gives me more reason to do so. I shared my life’s work with heron google docs, she has yet to reply//read.

I get more anxious by the minute.when I get on the subway, I choose the sidefacing away from the glaring sunset,realizing I would have to do so every day until springunless I left school after four,sunsets arrive early in the winter.I miss the times when we did whatever we wanted to do.whether that was studying porttuguese alone,or dreaming about what we could be,it isn’t important what it was - n’importe quoi - it’s all gone.

Ruby Szczur

7

Mistaken touches, Confused for longing passion, And I find myself asking: what is real?

And in, This deep introspection, I only end up More confused and more hesitant, And reality She drifts further away Rory Rusnak

8

Maria Rocha

Confessions of a Prayer Plant

By Jenna Koch A canteen’s warm water in the dunes is an ode to hollowed gourds & hallowed ground my sister’s child on my hip is a love letter to fruiting trees washing my hair in the sink & dancing without fear are songs to gorgons

9

Thrifting 101 Thrifting 101 Thrifting 101 With Mariana Marquez

10

Maria Rocha

When it comes to thrifting, you have probably seen a million videos on how to do it. But I assure you, I will try my best to come up with tips you haven't heard.

Usually when I go thrifting I go by myself, this allows me to take my time and look through everything. I always make sure to take some boba or even water and my headphones. In my opinion, drinking something and listening to music helps me not to be so awkward. I usually go to Goodwill and they always have a rug when you walk in that is the color of the 50% off tag that week. If, let's say, it's pink, then all the items with the pink tags are 50% which is a really good deal. The shirt can be $4.50 so that would be a $2.25 shirt!

When I am in the store, I go through everything. This usually takes a good 3-4 hours, but you must be patient. When you see something you like, try it on! Whether you think its a perfect fit or not, it's always good to see how and item looks on you. Also, go through the fabrics because sometimes you may see some cool patterns to make into clothes.

Be sure to check that there aren’t rips or bleach stains on the clothes.

For regular stains I usually get them and hope for the best.

If you’re iffy about something, try to envision yourself in a full outfit with the item. It can be hard to think about it, but trying never hurts. If you think you won’t wear it then, don’t buy it because there are plenty of people who want!

I have made this mistake multiple times and yes, the items are cute but think: will I ever wear them? If not, buy something that you really want or will upcycle. Honestly, just enjoy thrifting! Don’t take it too seriously if you don’t find anything sick. You won't always get lucky. That’s pretty much the whole deal.

Happy Thrifting!

11

EMILY HUESER EMILY HUESER

On finding inspiration, her photography and what she would do if aliens would come to earth

12

''BLACKBERRIES, NOSE PIERCINGS AND OLD BOOKS.'' ”What’s your name, age, and @?

"Emily Hueser, 16, @emilyhueserphotography " Alright then, let's start small. What’s your preferred medium?

"Photography; both digital and film."

How would you describe your style in three words or less?

"Punk, Rock, Hippie."

Why did you start taking photos? "I started creating for myself. I needed a creative outlet and after discovering what I could do with a camera, I fell in love."I love that.

What drives you to create?

"Being able to do whatever I want with art. I feel free and accomplished when shooting/designing shoots and creating what I want, so I aspire to feel like that all the time. Also, lately my main inspiration has been music and how I feel when listening to certain songs/artists such as Harry Styles and Declan McKenna currently. " Do you have anything specific that you live by?"I don’t have a specific motto or saying, but one thing I try to remind myself of whenever possible is that I truly am doing my best, and that no matter what should be proud of myself. It’s hard to remind ourselves that we’re enough."

14

If aliens said they were coming down to earth to destroy it in 24hrs what would you do in your last day?

"Be surprised they got to it before global warming, but then eat as much strawberry ice cream as humanly possible and sit on the roof of my car in an empty parking lot to watch the stars while listening to music."

I totally feel that! What do you hope people get out of your photos?

"That art can be created with whatever surroundings you have. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve either yelled at my friends “HOLD IT!!” as I wait for my cheap camera to focus or had to balance my camera is one hand with the other steadying myself in an awkward position to get the right angle:)."

Finally, what do you love?

"Blackberries, nose piercings, books that smell old, the color orange, French music, the look of excitement on someone’s face when they talk about something their passionate about, hearing birds in the morning after winter, and my friends and family."

15

18

Josie Murphy

GUIDE TO FILM GUIDE TO FILM GUIDE TO FILM GUIDE TO FILM GUIDE TO FILM GUIDE TO FILM GUIDE TO FILM WITH JOSIE MURPHY

1. Get yourself a point and shoot from Depop, Ebay or your local op shops !! This will reduce waste from disposable cameras and save you a ton of money :)

SHIT SHIT

SHOOT RANDOM SHOOT RANDOM 2. Youtube is an amazing tool for learning things about anything to do with film- from how to reload to info and ratings of the best cameras on the market.

3. Inspiration is everywhere! Take your camera to parties, festivals, walks with your dog, your drive to visit your mum- take a different route or try something new and it might just lead to a great photo.

4. Share the experience with your friends. Take pictures of your best friends in the mornings when they don’t expect it, on a coffee date, when they’re crying and when they’re ecstatic! But also remember to let them have a go taking a pic of you (as long as you trust them), it’s no fun only being behind the camera and never in front of it- you want to be able to look back and see yourself in the moment too :)) 5. KEEP. EVERY. PHOTO. save them to your Dropbox. Print them out.

Keep them in a photo album. Even the blurry bathroom selfies! When you look back you want to remember it ALL, not just the highlights or ‘perfect’ moments. Because the best thing about film is it doesn’t lie, there’s no ‘one more photo’. CHERISH THEM ! THEY'RE RAW 6. Have fucking fun with it!!!! Shoot random shit!!

20

24

25

Hands &Knees

Words by Samantha Parelli.

Images by Kylie Meyer

i. plea Since I am showing you a wound, please open it gently. Do not press toohard, you will break the skin. Do not press toohard. You will puncture me like a water balloon. I will never trust you again, and I mean it. Do not press–I told you not to press toohard, and you did, you did, you did.

27

ii. housedemon I’m sorry I spoiled the book for you. It was my favorite book, if that excuses me. I’m thinking about you right now, as I sit in the kitchen with only the oven light on. There’s nothing to eat but lukewarm ramen, and the noodles feel flat and slimy in my mouth. Like swallowing a jellyfish, maybe. Or a few of those plastic lanyard strings everyone used to spin into chunky purple bracelets at summer camp. The other day, I realized that I didn’t remember what you looked like, and that scared me. When I tried to picture you on the couch with me, I could only conjure up two arms and a ghostlike torso. Your face was blurred over like they do with criminals on the news, and I couldn’t seem to un-blur it, no matter how hard I tried. If you were here right now, you’d be just another housedemon slinking around past midnight. I don’t want another housedemon.

There are already too many in my closet, grabbing at all of the clothes I never feel pretty in. Do you remember that mesh shirt I wore last summer, the one that you could see my nipples clean through? Well, I think they’ve conspired against that particular shirt because I found it in a translucent clump yesterday, knocked gracelessly off the hanger. If I’m recalling correctly, you didn’t like it either. When that stranger said I looked like a whore, you just stood dumbly by my side, your gaze transfixed on the invisible point where the sky disappears into the sidewalk. I tried to laugh the whole incident off, but I didn’t want ice cream after that. That was the night your brother pushed the Empire State Building puzzle off the table in your basement, and all the pieces scattered.

All the pieces scattered and no one cared enough to fit them back together again, our collective apathy deer-eyed and silent. That was the night I realized that my entire body was made of mesh. I couldn’t stop the ghouls from slipping in and out through the infinite tiny holes. Since then, something big and evil has made a nest inside of me. When I’m showering late at night, I can almost feel it sleeping against my ribcage.

Anyway, I’m still sorry about the book, but you really can’t blame me.

The ending was just too gleefully unhappy.

29

iii. wasteland When it gets late at night, I want to time-travel. Where should I go? Back to the wasteland. Back to the nights we spent in limbo. I hate the damn wasteland so much, but that doesn’t stop me from going there all of the time. You told me that you would sit by the dying bonfire with me until the sun came up again. I don’t exactly know who left first, but I have a feeling it was me. I always get too cold. Too cold somewhere deep, deep in my bones.

Q: Did you make it out alive?

A: Yes, I think so. Alive, but missing something.

Where’s the last baby tooth I lost? Did the tooth fairy come and take it away?

Q: Do you miss me?

A: Only when I want something to miss. Only when I time travel back a few months too many, when I find myself sitting next to you on a couch somewhere. Or in the canyon, all of your silver vinyls sprawled across the sandy floor. A bit of advice: Don’t fall in love with someone just because they like the Beatles. You and your big house, you and your shiny records. Me and my hoop earrings, my open lips. Canyon, canyon, canyon. A canyon with a cave for each of our memories, the sky black and scraped. No, no, no. I can’t time-travel too fast, or else I get sick and dizzy. Map of my heart. The canyon, the wasteland, the ocean, the sunset, the dust. I’ve constructed this world. This plastic abyss, this hellish paradise. I don’t know where you are. If you’re still by the bonfire. If you’re swimming in the moonlight. If you’ve already left for good, if you’re sleeping in your own house. Housedemon. Real boy. Ghost girl. It doesn’t hurt that much. We’re just on different teams now.

31

iv. slutbootgirl I’m sitting next to a stranger in math class. I blew him in my attic four months ago, but we don’t look at each. Stranger status. To avoid seeming attached, I tilt my body away from him. Watch my reflection smirk back in patent leather boots instead. Sneak a sideways glance. Stubble on his chin. A new thing, or maybe just something I don’t remember. Another illicit look. Dark eyes. Those I remember. They probed me when I had his dick in my mouth. Shutters close around the memory and digest it beneath a flytrap clamp. Before I can think about it too much. Shiny girl smirks in my boots, her reflection alien and bloated. Oh, hey. That’s me.

Stranger, stranger. I don’t wave to her. My mother says she’s a slut, that we shouldn’t be friends anymore. That I should hack her up like a hairball. That I should tell her to stop wearing that black denim miniskirt.

Slutbootgirl waits inside of me like a tumor, licking her lips decidedly in the mirror. She’s an angry bitch and she dislikes everyone. If you’re hot, they can’t hurt you, she says, puckering thick lips. I want to believe her.

Her rage scares me. She stays up at night fighting my mother. Condoms in my underwear drawer. A lace thong. The elastic with the turquoise rosary beads snapped into a thousand pieces. She puts a bead up my pussy because she wants me to feel something. That something is cold and hard and round. She dislikes everyone, but I think she hates me most of all

33

34

vi. prettylittledreams (an answer) God, you’ve seen me so heartbroken. You’ve also seen me so in love. I think you knew, though. I think you knew this whole damn time that my “love” hurt me more than my heartbreak.

God, God, God. I don’t know if I believe in you. Do you believe in me? Do you think I’m good? Do you think I’m evil? Please tell me that, whatever I am, I can change if I want to. That it’s not too fucking late. There’s no canyon anymore. All of my insides are smooth and empty. I’m practically reborn. I think that I’d go back to my childhood if I had the chance. Pretty little dreams. I was so full of pretty little dreams. I dumped them out the window one day, simply because I felt like it. Because I was old enough to do it. To kill butterflies and wave sticks and walk out of that green-glossed chamber of early, early youth. I wish I stayed. I wish I could be incubated forever. Deep in the sweet flowers and dark earth, my body coiled like a soft bud. Pry me open, I dare you. He didn’t want to pry me open. Of course, I wondered if there was something wrong with me. The way it looked, maybe. The pink too vivid. The hair too coarse. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me. I’m still shut. I’m glad I didn’t lose my virginity. There’s something stupid and sentimental about it. I wonder if I’ll cry when I do, if I’ll bleed.

Dual voices. “Losing your virginity” is a sexist construct.

Innocence can never be regained. God, I miss my childhood.

Everything was so fucking pretty and okay. Nothing ever hurt that bad. The first time I felt real, deep hurt was third grade.

After that, it didn’t stop. Sometimes, I think I’m too fragile for this world. Other times, I think I can do absolutely anything I put my mind to. I oscillate wildly. I hope someone will love me. I don’t believe anyone will. I guess it’s a nice, nice, pretty, pretty dream.

35

vii. rabbit Pain is not concrete, not solid, not a collision, not the universe pressing outwards, not the cracking of bones. It is not composed of words or volcanic ash or searing fire. I have bruises on my legs from the summertime asphalt, my pale skin chalked up with pulsating blue. I have cuts on my elbows from falling too fast, from bouncing through the atmosphere like a doomed airplane. I have a water balloon in my heart that is torn wideopen, an oceanic artery bleeding heavily. But that, all of that, is not pain Pain is an animal, small and soft and mute. Pain is a backyard rabbit that hides behind the gardenias, always gnawing at the daisy bulbs. A rabbit that I cannot catch and kill, no matter how hard I try.

NOSTALGIA PLAYLIST

38

39

40

A BLACK WOMAN LOVE

Marion Kamara

41

Tell me you love me, The same way you love her...

Or even more.

Show me how you appreciate My lips,my voice and my skin Without mentioning hers Or being nostalgic about those golden silky hair.

I will never be her, but I am like you: Kissed by the sun, Darker than the night, Built with strength and joy.

I love you and I gave you my heart, Bleeding, fiercely standing next to you, Under the sun and under the rain,

Even though your eyes were hypnotized By her porcelain's body.

I swallowed the dust,the mockery and the grief Patiently waiting for you to love me, The same way I love you.

She's gone.

She enjoyed your fruit,ignoring your essence.

Meanwhile, You made my skin a shadow, Vilifying this brown, Walking over it,making it soil.

Flowers grew out giving me the strength and the joy, to make my life a spring without you.

Audrèe Nack

42

Model: Jade Fells

BLACK LIVES MATTER

45

On May 25th George Floyd, an African American, was murdered by four police officers. George Floyd’s death was the tip of the ice berg for a lot of black people in America, as well as globally.

Black people have faced so many injustices in the world and police brutality isn’t the only problem.

Many people will live their lives only having to worry about basic things.

Where to go to school, where to work, when they want to have a family. And sure, they will have some hardships in their life, they’re human, but for many black people we have to worry about being murdered in cold blood for simply existing. We have to worry about being the best of the best just to maybe have a chance like our white counterparts. We live in a world where white people can say they feared for their life when they were in no real danger, but we cannot say that, even though we fear everyday.

The riot is the language of the unheard.

- Martin Luther King Jr

47

A Beginners Guide to Antiracism For a lot of you, the past couple of months have been a rude awakening to the long standing issue of systemic racism. Systemic racism, by definition, is racism that is embedded in the institutions that build a society like the criminal justice system, the education system and the health and services departments. Prior to George Floyds tragic death and the slew of Black Lives Matter protests across the world, a lot of white people considered institutional racism a thong of the past. Hopefully, we all now know that it is very present, very real, and very ugly. So, what can we do to help?

Ana Felix

By Marion Kamara 48

Step One: The Purge This is, in my personal opinion, the most crucial part of becoming actively anti-racist. The Purge is the unlearning of the racism that's built into our psyches. It's the accepting that you can and have made mistakes, apologizing for them, reflecting and correcting. This also includes wiping away any preconceived notions you have about people of colour, their lives and their culture because right now the conversation is not about you and what you think, it's about sitting back and listening to those who are experiencing the effects of what you're unlearning. Reminder: if you are white, be happy you only have to learn about racism and not actually go through it. Don't you forget though, racism doesn't exist in a vacuum so intersectionality is key. You must also begin to unlearn homophobia, sexism, transphobia, xenophobia, ableism, and classism to truly understand how upholding the standard of inequality is engrained in all of us.

49

Kyle Miller

Alright my pupils, now that you've sat back, reflected, listened to people of colour, now it's time for you to understand how the systems of oppression work and what you can do to fix it. And no, I don't just mean googling statistics, though that can help: I mean doing readings like “Are prisons obsolete?’ by Angela Davis which chronicles how prisons oppress black and brown people and is the basis of prison abolition. Or, perhaps, watching Dakota 38 on netflix which gives insight into the history of native people. You can also listen to podcasts like code switch, hosted by two poc talking about current issues and navigated this race driven world.

Step Two: Re-Education 50

Step Three: Spread 'n' Amplify Once you're equipped with a thorough understanding of institutional racism, it's time to spread said knowledge and educate those around you.

Introduce and explain the topic to your ignorant friends and family.

I know it's tempting to tell them to google it or simply educate themselves but it's your job as an ally to at the very least attempt to have these conversations because without them we’ll go nowhere.

Also, amplify black and brown content!! This applies not only to activists of colour, but also to creators of colour.

Lastly, If you slip up or overstep (which you probably will), stop, take the critique and correct yourself. Growth is absolutely crucial and okay.

Kyle Miller

Black lives mattered yesterday, they matter today, and they'll matter tomorrow. .No one is illegal on stolen land, Abolish ICE, and fuck Donald Trump.

52

Lucrezia Dipasquale

To be or not to be a tomboy?

53

Throughout my childhood, a prominent question was “Are you a ‘tomboy’ or a ‘girly girl’?” but not in a way of asking what style someone enjoys, it was the way people would try to figure you out and put you in a certain category of ‘girl’. It worked like this, if you liked stereotypically ‘girly things’ (i.e anything classed as feminine or even just liking the colour pink) you were seen as a ‘girly girl’ and if you liked anything opposing that (even if you just enjoyed wearing pants) you were seen as a ‘tomboy’. For whatever reason, if you liked anything that’s classified as ‘girly’, you were not respected as much between your peers and was seen as weak thus everyone tried to be more ‘tomboy’ which you'd hope would gain you the respect from your male cohort but it never did.

From my memory, they didn’t seem to care that much at all.

I can say with the pride that the care for what someone wore died out pretty early in about Year 3 or so, but it still perplexes me as to why we were voluntarily putting ourselves in these two very broad styles at such a young age. The boys weren’t asking about it so why were we? I think I may partially have an answer.

Women are told from a young age that things are this or that, you can either be a Mother or have a job, be in a relationship or sleep with multiple people and be labelled a whore even though men are praised for that exact same thing, don’t be a prude but don’t be too ‘sexy’. The list goes on and on, and though times are changing and continue to, an awful by-product of this ‘this/that’ ideology is young girls putting themselves in these two polar-opposite camps never being allowed to fall somewhere in the middle.

I believe to fix this twisted view of women we need to start understanding that not everything is so black and white, not gender, not sexuality and definitely not a woman’s style. Some days, I want to wear a pretty pink dress, and other days I want to wear cargo pants and combat boots. A person is not defined by how they dress but by how they act, my actions will always speak louder than any article of clothing I wear.

- Rose Nixon-Poole

Open Open Open

Up Up Up 54

Ash Farz

WASH THE SHEETS

By Zoey Hickman “No you’re not.”

I paced the room, watching as Megan packed up things—our things—into boxes littering the living room floor. “Yeah, I am. I’m sorry but I just can’t anymore.” She was moving faster, flinging items in one by one. The antique teapot her mom gave us for our fifth anniversary. The little E.T. figurine we found on Coney Island two summers ago. The Chromecast, ripped out from the hub. Swiftly. Maybe even viciously. ”Meg, I don’t understand.” That wasn’t entirely true. “I just can’t handle your mess anymore, okay? I don’t have it in me to stay on this emotional rollercoaster.”

I thought of the night a few weeks back, when she’d gotten angry with me over a joke. “Well, if I don’t get the job,” I’d said, “the Brooklyn Bridge is only like what? Five miles from here?”

I’d expected the usual “what a mood” response I’d always gotten from her. Instead, she halted. I remember the air feeling colder than it had. The darkness of the city sky was more noticeable then. More suffocating.

“Fucking stop.” It wasn’t a suggestion. “What?” As I turned to look at her, she released her hand, hiding it in her pocket. It felt cruel.

“I don’t like it when you talk like that.” I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. We didn’t speak the rest of the night.

“I just feel like this is pretty drastic, right?” She stopped.

I stared at the back of her head, noticing the way that her hair caught the light. Amber streams down a soft brown hill. Without trying, I remembered the scent of her shampoo. I almost choked trying to suppress the lump in my throat.

She breathed in deep, releasing it in a heavy sigh. “You’re broken.” I held my fist tight, hoping that the pressure would serve as extra force against my tears.

“You’re broken and I can’t fix you.”

I never asked you to, I thought. I said nothing.

“And you used to make me so happy. So proud to be yours. But now...”

I noticed that I was holding my breath.

“Now you just make me ad. Or, well, disappointed.

It hit me in the chest, releasing the built up tears. My wall was starting to collapse. ”I don’t feel proud to be yours anymore. I haven’t felt that way in too long.”

A year. I was diagnosed a year ago.

“I thought you might get better. Be who I fell in love with.”

I was rationing my breaths, as if I only had a set number left. Trying my hardest to make no noise.

“But maybe that person doesn’t exist anymore.”

She turned toward me again, looking around me. Through me. I left.

Returning to the darkness that I had only just stepped in from, I walked. One foot in front of the next, on and on and on, only stopping to scream every once in a while. The thought of scaring sleeping residents never even crossed my mind.

My tears flowed passionately, coating my cheeks in a sticky sheen that made the cold more noticeable. I hyperventilated in sharp peaks and dips. It was rhythmic, like a song from a place that you’ve never wanted to go.

By the time I returned to the apartment, the world was hazy. The overhead light was harsh but the warmth soothed me. Megan was gone, along with half of our things. Our place was barren—the bones of a relationship dead long before I knew.

The bedroom was barer still, but the bed was made. I fell into it, cocooning myself in the blankets, poorly recreating the feeling of being held. It still smelled like her.

LOVE IS LOVE Pride Playlist

Miserable America: Kevin Abstract Take yourself home: Troye Sivan Midnight Love: Girl in Red Guilty Conscience: 070 Shake Hellbound: Dua Saleh Palace : The Internet Talia: King Princess Paracetamol: Declan McKenna Sofia: Clairo Let my baby stay: Amandla Stenberg Echo: Kevin Abstract Inhale: Duke Dumont C7OSURE: Lil Nas X Bloom: Troye Sivan Breathe: Years & Years Chanel: Frank Ocean Temptation: Raveena Marceline: Willow

Artwork by: Trey Gordon

NEXT ISSUE THEME: COMING OF AGE

Daania Sharif

Brought to you by the Amoureux Team: Marion Kamara ,Kyle Miller, Mariana Marquez, Fred Whitley, Aiyanah Barnes, Kyra Ten-Brink, and Rose Nixon-Poole

SUBMIT THROUGH AMOUREUX.ZINE ON INSTAGRAM

Ana Felix