FOREVER FASTER Photographs by NIJAT GAFAROV/GAFAROFF Model: UMLEYLA @ FMA MODELS BAKU Clothing: IRA HMUA/Stylist: NIJAT GAFAROV Acessories: URBAN OUTFITTERS
SAUDADE Photography by JOSH WEBB Model: ANNABEL LOUISE
Starting Page Kimono & Shorts - NASTY GAL Metallic Tattoos - MALIBU BLUE This Page Kimono & Shorts - NASTY GAL Metallic Tattoos - MALIBU BLUE
Sweater & Shorts - NASTY GAL Metallic Tattoos - MALIBU BLUE
Sweater - ZARA
Sweater & Shorts - NASTY GAL Metallic Tattoos - MALIBU BLUE
Sweater - J. CREW
Sweater & Shorts - NASTY GAL Metallic Tattoos - MALIBU BLUE
Photographs by JOSEPH MADDON Model: ANTONIA KASTILAHN Clothing by CURIIOS
STAY SALTY Photographs by ERICA DAVIDGE Model: SOPHIE WALL @ Wilhelmina Hawaii Stylist: ERICA DAVIDGE
Swimsuit - MINIMALE ANIMALE
Necklace - OCEAN ELEMENTS JEWELRY
Dress/Desiner - LOTTIE HALL
Adventure Timeless Photographs by LIAM SIMMONS Photographer’s assistant: JOHN GENT Model: DEE DUNCAN
ZABASTIAN THE FACE BEHIND Y.R.U Photographs by TRAVIS SEALE Interview by VARA AYANNA
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rt, as well as the artist, comes in all different forms. Some people paint, others take photographs. While these may be vague examples, the point is that your options are limitless with just a little imagination and the tools to achieve your desired outcome.The way in which you choose to express yourself is entirely up to you, and In Zabasatian’s case, he designs shoes... and he’s really good at it. Maybe you’ve heard of Y.R.U? If not, you’re welcome. His designs have been seen on various different celebrities such as Vanessa Hudgens, Paramore’s Hayley Williams, and most recently, Charli XCX. So, if you don’t already own a pair, you should fix that. On a different note, you’d be hard pressed to find someone as down to earth and as humble as Zabastian, or as others call him, “Z.” Some people might say he views the world through rose-colored glasses, but those people are wrong. His glasses are technicolor and we should all be so lucky to have a pair, thankyouverymuch! Within minutes of meeting him it’s apparent that he was born to create art, which makes his success at doing so that much more rewarding when viewed from an outsider’s perspective. His designs are fresh, original, and a pretty good reason to tell people to fuck off when they suggest coloring inside the lines. Can you give us a little backstory on Y.R.U? What does it [Y.R.U] stand for? Y.R.U means “Why are you?” and it’s a question to encourage to look deep and see what we’re about, and to become ourselves and express ourselves. Where do you gain your inspiration and what current projects are you working on? Inspiration comes from everywhere. Every moment. Everyday there is always a way to get inspired. It’s just a matter of us accepting that inspiration from that love, that light. The energy that the universe brings to us. I like to focus on things that make me happy. I prefer to create when I’m in a positive mood that way the message that I’m spreading is received as positive. I’m Currently working on my music project which is what I’ve done since I can remember. Not a lot of people know this, but that’s coming out. It’s called Esqape and I just think that everyone needs to escape. Everyone wants to escape. Do you have a person that is your biggest inspiration? I can’t think of one person in particular, but anyone that energy and is strong, and dynamic, and explosive inspires me. That makes me want to be bigger and motivated to be more of what I can be.
When did you know your brand was where you wanted it to be? It’s never where I want it to be. It’s not there yet, you know? It’s always a process. It just happens as natural as possible that way doesn’t come out forced. The product, its image and what it stands for comes out pure. How do you want your brand to impact the fashion world? I see a bigger picture and don’t necessarily focus on fashion. I enjoy it and I think it’s fun, but on a bigger level it’s a form of communication and a way of expression. What are some of your favorite brands and what brands do you consider innovative? I don’t think I have a favorite brand. I can’t even tell you one brand I have (laughs). I like my friend’s stuff. It’s never one brand, though. There’s a lot of cool stuff in existence. What kind of obstacles have you run into involving your business and how have you overcome them? There’s a lot of things that nobody sees that are obstacles, and of course you want to keep it that way.You want the creations to come out as they are and be pure, but any difficulty beyond the creative process is not important to the world. It’s not always easy to do a business. It’s a lot of work and that’s how it should be. It shouldn’t be easy and that’s why I do it. How do you deal with people in the industry that you feel like try to mimic your style? I really don’t pay attention. There are a lot of times I’ve created and designed something and I see it and it’s not necessarily that person copying, it’s that we might just be on the same wavelength. Sometimes it might be a replication, but that’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s positive – it’s a sign that you’re making a difference. What are your plans for 2015? We talked a little bit about Esqape. It’s going to be my music project with my buddy “IZM.” A lot of sounds, a lot of vibrations […]. Y.R.U has been focusing on apparel a lot. Just whatever fits the vision. Y.R.U apparel and Y.R.U designs are getting crazier. It’s not getting toned down because that’s not the idea and Y.R.U is going to keep it real. Along with fashion collaborations there will be music collaborations. We’ll be throwing events. Been doing a lot of stuff with my boy Darin Vartanian. He’s trippy and he’s really cool. So yeah, I’ve got a lot of collaborations and I feel there are so many minds out there that have so much to give.
What advice do you have for any aspiring designer, or any inspiring creative? Believe. Always believe. There’s no better or worse creation. There’s no wrong creations. They’re all as natural as they can be. It’s like let it go – run free with it. There’s no question or hesitation. It’s like Buzz Lightyear, you know. He didn’t listen to what Woody told him, he just did it. Shout out to “infinity and beyond (laughs).” Okay, so we’re going to move on to some of the fun ones [questions]. What’s your sign? I’m a Leo (growls). What is your dream collaboration? You can collaborate with anyone in the whole world. They can be dead, too. In that case, The Beatles. No, uh, I would collaborate with David Bowie. I would collaborate with Quincy Jones. Designers? I would love to collaborate with Thierry Mugler. He’s got great vision. He’s pretty tough, but it’s never about someone with a huge name because there are brilliant people everywhere. If you could be any superhero or have any superpower, who or what would it be? I think Superman is overrated because he’s got too much power, so it’s like, how can you have fun? You’ve got to have drama. Batman is tight. He has no powers, so I guess somewhere inbetween. Alright, so now we’re playing “Would you rather.” Would you rather have bugs in your socks or pudding in your socks? Hmmm, pudding. Pudding for sure. You might get hungry (laughs). Would you rather know the date or cause of your death? I would rather know the ... no? Maybe the cause? The date wouldn’t matter. You’re gone right? You want to go out in style. If you didn’t you don’t want to tell anyone. Would you rather have free Starbucks for a year or free iTunes forever? Itunes for real. I can’t live without music. If you had to choose for the rest of your life, would you rather be underdressed or overdressed? Over, ‘cause you can always get rid of shit. Do you have any final statements that you want people to get from the interview? I learned in 2014 is that it really is one [...]. Everything really is one. Nothing can really go wrong. It’s all connected. It’s always up to us and everyone at once. It’s all you. It’s all one.
Purchase Y.R.U apparel @ www.y-r-u.com
SYNTHETIC Photographs by SOREN DRASTRUP + OLIVIA CORSI Model: DIANA SCHALLENBERG @ Izaio Management Styling by OLIVIA CORSI + SOREN DRASTRUP Clothing: STYLISTS OWN Hair/Makeup by HELLIE LAST
CURIIOS BABE Photographs by JACKIE STERNA Model: KLOEY RAMIREZ @ FORD ROBERT BLACK Clothing and Accessories by CURIIOS Stylist: PARISA ZAHEDI MUA: DAWN MARIE
Clara Rae Photographs by ROON CASTLETON Model: CLARA RAE
PLASTIC CANDY Photographs by KALEB M. STARR Models: AMBER ANDREWS & VANESSA MICHELI Clothing: THRIFTED
WHO IS DEVANI RAE, ANYWAY? Photographs and interview by TRAVIS SEALE
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icture the shittiest town in rural Arizona and multiply that by cotton fields and crackheads – this is the setting for Devani Rae’s adolescent years. The town’s name is irrelevant, but Devani is not. With nothing to do in said small town shetook up sewing and realized what she wanted to be when she grew up. Devani is a clothing designer, and her Frankenstein’s monster is DevoWevo. Skipping the parts where she was just a kid on the playground, we take you 2003, Devani’s junior year of high school. It was at this moment in her life that she would garner the attention of fashion world by becoming FIDM’s fashion informant of the year. She beat out thousands of applicants and knew bigger things were in her future. After graduating high school she moved to Phoenix and began developing a name for herself. The years went by and she continued to piece together her design style and in 2008 she was named Scottdale’s Fashion Designer of the Year. After taking over Arizona she decided to take her Singer to New York and thus DevoWevo was born. As of now, her designs have been seen on a “Sea Punk” episode on IFC’s Portlandia, Rihanna, Audrey Kitching, and most recently, Charli XCX due to a recent collaboration with footwear brand, Y.R.U. She’s not just a designer, though - she’s an artist, a dreamer and a hard worker. As her brand continues to grow, so does her appetite for artistic fulfillment. So, if you’re still not feeling DevoWevo, then have a seat. In fact, have all the seats, because Dev isn’t going anywhere but up. How do you view DevoWevo as a brand? I’ve always considered my brand as not just a fashion label, but more so an outlet for artistic collaborations. I want it to become its own machine where art shows, music, and fashion collide. It’s three dimensional art in motion and it caters to people who like to be seen as well as heard. It’s an extension of my personality and how I feel about life at the given time. Where would you like to see DevoWevo in five years? I want to see it in a larger scale production and sold through physical retailers as well as through online stores. I want to be working on full collections sold bi-annually and shown in big art productions that includes music, production sets and just performing arts in general.
There’s become a trend in the market for the types of clothing you sell. Do you think that it has impacted your label positively, or negatively considering the influx in designers with similar styles? That’s just the way it workd in fashion. Styles and aesthetics become trends and the market eventually becomes saturated, but that just pushes me to be innovative and progressive with my artwork. I like the competition because it motivates me to be better. Where do you think fashion is headed? I’ve seen both male and female being more open to eccentric styles blurring the lines between gender stereotypical clothing. The face of fashion is becoming more androgynous and it’s super exciting because it changes the way people look at sexuality and gender roles. I feel like it will make people more united. Who do you consider your biggest inspiration when it comes to DevoWevo? One of my favorite designers is Alexander McQueen, although that might sound kind of cliché, but I saw his exhibit, “Savage Beauty,” at the MOMA and really paid attention to the construction and the detailing of his work, and I understood it. I later read his book and learned that he was a slave to his craft and I often feel that way about my art. Can you explain further? I feel like I have to give my artistic mind to the world. Obligated almost – like it [the world] needs it even though the general response isn’t reciprocated to the way I feel about it and the passion behind it. Do you think this hinders your ability to create? No, but it sometimes makes me question my identity and my path in life. What current projects are you working on? I’m working on a music/video art project called “DV NiiXC.” The root of it is electronic, and I’m experimenting a lot with guitar and vocals. If you could read minds or be invisible for 24 hours, which would you choose? Read minds. Just because I feel invisible most of the time - (laughs) that makes me sound emo. What I mean is, I spend a lot of time alone and when I don’t want to be bothered in public I keep my head down and dress like a bum so people will avoid me.
If you could pick anyone’s brain – dead or alive – who would it be and why? Dr. Seuss because I read that he was introverted and he was afraid for his fans to meet him because he didn’t look like the whimsical characters he created and didn’t want to disappoint. Who are your top five music artists in no particular order? Saves the Day, The Cranberries, The Knife/Fever Ray, Eiffel 65 … I’m serious (laughs) and No Doubt. Bonus album: Alkaline Trio and lately I’ve been listening to Portishead and Sneaker Pimps. I hate numbers. What’s your favorite movie? We can’t put two? The Goonies and Mullholand Drive. We’re going to play a game of would you rather. So, would you rather have no one show up to your funeral or your wedding? Wedding. I always just wanted a small wedding. No extended family. Just close friends and immediate family. Would you rather go deaf in one ear or only be able to use the Internet 1 hour per week? The Internet because I need my hearing for music and I hate the Internet. Would you rather be able to control your dreams or be able to watch them on video the next day? Dang that’s hard. Probably watch them because you can’t remember most of your dreams anyway, so... Would you rather sing the national anthem at the Super Bowl or do a nude scene in a movie? Wow, those are both really awkward. Probably a nude scene if I got to choose what kind of scene it was. Nudity doesn’t always mean sex. And now for the most challenging question - would you rather have permanent clown face or permanent clown clothes? Probably … uh. I keep on going back and forth (laughs). I can’t find good reason to justify either. I’m going to go with clothes. Clothes are fun. What do you want people to get out of this interview? A lot of people don’t know that there’s a face behind my brand, so I hope people can get a sense of my sincerity and love for creating.
Purchase DEVOWEVO apparel @ www.devowevo.com
LAZY SUNDAY Photographs by ALEKS Ol Model: GABRIELLA BARONA KURI Clothing by MAPLE SHOW ROOM
Brenda Photographs by HECTOR MERAZ Model: BRENDA RAMOS
Jacket - UMBRO Swimsuit - ALAS OLAS
Top/Skirt - VINTAGE
BAﾃ前 DE SOL (SUN BATH)
Photographs by ARMANDO HUERTAS Model: KARINA REYNOSO
The End of Summer Photographs by DAVEY WARREN Photographer’s assistant: BUFORD D. RAY Model: JULIA KAY @ FAYME MODELS Clothing: THRIFTED Acessories: MODEL’S OWN
After All These Days A short story by Van Hobbes
1 “And what is the point of making an issue of that, Seth?” “The point?” Seth responded, lighting a cigarette. “The point is that I think there is something there. Something more. Something more than just...what we see! Don’t you get it?” Rip just rubbed his bearded chin. “Hmm,” he pondered, or made an effort to seem to at least, “not really.” He gave Seth yet another puzzled look before he sipped his beer. “I just…I can’t explain it. I know that. I’m terrible at that and I know I always have been. But I really don’t feel, exactly, alone.” “You think she’s there?” “No! Or, yes. Or...something, I’m not sure. I’m not saying it feels like she’s there, like a living person is there. I just...I don’t feel like she’s not there. You get that?” “Hmm-mmm” Rip sounded, shaking his head. “Not at all.” Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “look, Seth. It has been three years. Three years since she died and you’ve wavered from suicide watch levels of depression to respectable attempts to watch after your health and be outgoing, even tried dating again. Failing miserably, but you tried it. I feel like we’re losing you, again. Not just because your beard is back, but you don’t even bother doing laundry half the time. Your complete hygiene is going downhill again. We can all smell you. And you stink! “We don’t want to lose you again, but we all know the signs and symptoms. You become reclusive. You stop taking care of yourself. You drink and smoke too much. You talk about,” he didn’t know how to finish this last reproach, but he did anyway, so he looked away when he said it, “her.” “I’m fine, Rip.” He lit another cigarette and seemed to grin smugly when he did, letting Rip know this was in spite of his comment. “Really, I’m fine. And I think I’m on to something. I just need to figure out what is going on there.” “You’re saying this phenomenon only happens at your apartment?” “That’s right.” “That’s perfect. And I’m guessing when you sleep you’re often awaken by whatever is going on there?” “Mostly, yes.” “Just perfect, man. Look, you keep in touch. And be careful with yourself. I mean, look after yourself, please. For all of us.” “Yeah, will do.” “So I’ll call you in a couple days.” “Yes, sounds good! I’ll be - ” “I know where you’ll be, Seth.” And he was there. In his dark, damp, cold apartment. What once was a cozy one-bedroom living space for friends to gather around the living room table and smoke, drink, and chat about the world’s problems was quickly resembling a laydown yard for a single parent in college working two jobs. Old books and magazines were littered in between jackets and rarely worn laundry, sprinkled on top with pipes and empty bags of tobacco and other therapeutic inhalants. The bed, which was in a room barely big enough to contain it, was never made anymore. And the sheets needed to be changed and washed, but he hadn’t the wherewithal to recognise they were in any need of attention and besides, they almost smelled like her. His computer, which he used every day to keep in touch with friends and family, manage accounts, pay bills, and stay informed and up to date in this environment, had been neglected for some time and ended up burning out its monitor which, had his machine also not been hacked into and completely compromised, would have needed replacing in order to use again. The darkness inside the place was partially intentional, as all the windows had heavy drapes, laden with dust, shutting out the light except for where he hadn’t the energy to close them completely, such as above the kitchen sink. But artificial lighting, or lack thereof, was completely unintentional. Several bulbs in several different lamps and ceiling lights had simply burned out all on their own. And he simply had not got around to putting new ones in.
So in the afternoon’s greyish winter light, the sun barely warming the city below him, he lay under their favourite blanket, containing himself inside a cocoon of comfort and reminiscence amidst the cool breath of an unkempt and forgotten apartment. He was dreaming. And thinking. And focusing. All of his energies, all of his memories, furiously unwinding, so that he may once again channel the feeling he felt just last week. Or was it two weeks ago? Or three?
2 What was that? He jumped in his bed. Before noticing the storm outside, he looked around his room, hopeful that the presence of what he had been dreaming of would materialise. No, that’s not quite right, he thought. Not dreaming, but connecting. They weren’t dreams to him, they were actual moments of a perceivable connection. A spark. Something, he did not know what. He only knew it was something that could be repeated. And something that had an intensity. And he wished to increase that intensity. To the point he could...he could what? He mouthed the words, see her. Touch her. Smell her. Kiss her. But then he thought about this, and felt selfish, and changed it all to, simply: be with her. In his attempts to further what he had been experiencing, he concentrated on what had just happened. What did I feel? It was less of a dream and more of a comforting reminder, a message sent without any necessity for words or touch; no body language or any visual aid needed. He just knew what was being said. Once again, he mouthed the words, this time in translation: It’s okay, I’m here. Yes. Yes! That was it! That most certainly was it! He had what some may call a vision, but without that stimuli being necessary. This was, at least, a communication, and before he could grasp its deeper meaning or piece together exactly how he came about feeling it, so as to make sure he could experience it again, he felt something else. The warmth of it sent chills, not down his spine, but from his feet upward, until he felt so comforted he no longer noticed the steam in his breath when he exhaled. He stood there, eyes wide open and mouth agape in complete shock. Comfort. Love. As comforting as being wrapped in warm, soft blankets, but without any of the physical feeling of that. This was purely internal. His spirit, his own spirit felt as if it was being touched and cradled, cared for in a way he never knew it could be. And he knew that there was only one explanation for what, or who, could reach this part of him and touch him in this way. He wanted to scream with excitement, but instead just stood there, enjoying and appreciating this brief moment of absolute peace and comfort. He wondered later if this is what extremely devout members of religions feel, and why it is that they so fervently preach the connection to The Spirit or a Higher Power. He lost track once again of the outside world, and when he realised he was low on cigarettes and what was substituting as food in his diet - packaged snacks and frozen pizzas - he ventured outside, looking like a man who had lost his wits as he went out without a jacket and braved the wind and snow with only pants and a sweater, shivering and trodding through the slushy streets. Once inside the supermarket, he took a moment to step out of everyone’s way and brush snow off his shoulders before it melted and soaked him to the bone with cold. Someone said “my God, Seth?” to him. He turned. “Rip?” “Seth! What the hell man? You look,” he took a step back to eye him up and down. His face told Seth that he was concerned. “You okay?” “Oh. Yeah. Just...snow, you know.” “No, I mean, how ya been? Everything, okay man?” Seth took this as a friend being legitimately concerned for the status of another. He was not picking up just what Rip was getting at, but from the looks he was getting, he figured it out quickly.
Seth had not looked at himself in some time, he realised, and realised again that maybe the awkward fit of his sweater wasn’t because it had shrunk the last time he washed it. He looked down. His belly was sticking out. He had developed breasts, accentuated by the awkwardly fitting sweater. His beard was wiry and unruly, not to mention filled with crumbs. He felt his hair, which was also long and disheveled, but worse yet, was matted on the left side. The side he slept on most, staring at her side of the bed from his. “I’m okay, Rip.” “You sure? It’s been a long time, Seth.” “Yeah. Wait, how long?” “Weeks.” “How many?” “Six maybe?” “Shit. I’m sorry. I meant to come to you sooner, but...been busy.” “With what?” “I’ve felt…I’ve felt something.” Rip looked away in disgust.
3 He was ecstatic. He ran from room to room, celebrated the feeling he just felt. “She grazed me. She grazed right by me when I asked her to.” And then, jumping up and down, celebrating what he had just experienced, he thought deeper on it: “she touched me.” He said it again. “She touched me.” Differently. “She touched me.” And again. “She touched me.” Finally, he was uncontrollably jubilant. “She touched me! She touched me! SHE TOUCHED ME!” He grabbed for his phone and was about to dial Rip, but realised, when he heard it had no tone, that his phone line had been cut two days ago for lack of payment. “Oh well, I’ll tell him the good news tomorrow. She touched me! I felt that. I’ll tell him tomorrow. I’ll tell him,” he then glanced at the clock, 3:17 A.M. it read, “I’ll tell him later today. Ha!” He sat upright in his bed, clutching his blanket and rocking back and forth, the way a child does on Christmas Eve, in agonising anticipation of the big day. He could not stop the giddy feeling that welled in his midsection and shot bursts of joyous laughter out through his quivering lungs and mouth. He even had tears of elation running down his cheeks, getting lost in the matted beard. He woke up several times in the darkness of the early morning. He only seemed to sleep in half hour intervals, but each time he awoke he could feel her spirit stronger and stronger. Her presence felt more and more tangible, appealing more and more to his actual, physical senses. He could smell her. He was certain of it. Yes, her scent, it was so familiar, even all these days later. The presence of her warm body, it was all there. Her side of the bed may be untouched but he just knew it was happening. Everything he’d come to expect of what her spirit was trying to do was finally gaining momentum and becoming irrevocably integrated into his life. “I knew our love was strong enough,” he said to no one. Finally, as the dawn was approaching, he woke once more to find the bathroom door only slightly ajar, open just enough to see the lightly coloured tan skin of a long legged female form. Completely naked, even though only partially visible in the slight opening of the doorway. It appeared to be curling beautiful dark brown hair. “Deh -” he gasped, still too exhausted to move. “Desirr...Desireh.” He couldn’t believe it. Finally, after all this time, and the intensity and triumphant exhilaration of coming to be in contact with, and coming to know, the spirit of his late lover, he just assumed the sight of her re-incarnate would spark him into jumping out of any level of exhaustion and embracing her.
What in the Hell was the matter! Here, for the first time since her tragic passing, stood the woman to whom he had given his entire heart, soul, and life as he knew it. So why the hell couldn’t he act? Just what in the absolute Hell! The door began to creak, opening itself further. Desiree seemed to notice this, and standing there naked with a curling iron in her hair, she turned to make eye contact with him. They locked eyes, the first time he’d seen her beautiful blue eyes in years but it didn’t feel to him any time at all had passed since they looked at each other that way. She winked. She knew exactly how much love he felt for her. She smiled because of it. He could not understand his paralysis. It was not driven by apathy. He screamed on the inside, he fought and he fought and if he could kick and punch he’d have fought even harder to find the strength to get up on his feet and walk to her. “Dez,” he whispered. “Dez,” he tried once more, this time in a pouting tone. He began to fail to hold back his frustration, and showed the face of a man whose floodgates are opening and is on the verge of crying. At this, Desiree softened her eyes and wrinkled her brow, making a comforting face. Don’t cry, it said. I’m here. Everything will be okay, you’ll see. He reached out with his right hand, the one that wasn’t buried under the body of an overweight (temporary) quadriplegic. He wasn’t pointing at her, or waving, but actually reaching for her. How he craved her touch. And the veil came down. Haze, followed by darkness. “No!” he was unable to shout but the frustration was there. And it lifted. He saw her again, this time balancing on the heel of her left foot, left leg straight, as the right leg was bent so that foot could slide seductively up her left calf. She was still smiling. Even as the darkness returned. His visibility went from perfect to poor to legally blind, and then complete darkness took his view of her from him. Almost as quickly as it had come, it lifted. And she stood there with the curler in her hair, dancing, naked. “Dez,” he said, once more. “I’m so,” and he needed to take a deep breath to get one more word out. “So sorry,” exhausting all the air in his lungs. She turned her head and winked once more. He reached out using all the strength he could muster. He searched for reserves in adrenaline but none were forthcoming. Reaching out he said finally, “Dez! Come, here! Please.” Now sobbing uncontrollably, he saw once again the darkness descending on him. His vision was being compressed by two converging planes of sightlessness, meeting in the middle with one last glance at the love of his life, like a setting sun, irretrievably stuck between two infinitely dark horizons that were slowly trying to seal just below her head. His feelings of desperation and frustrated rage could not push them back. Nothing could. At last, her body, her perfect form standing there staring at him, was reduced to a thin sliver of flesh acrosse her shoulders and chest. And then, was lost to the dense inky blackness. And she woke up. She woke up so suddenly she was short of breath, and didn’t bother trying to remember whether or not she had stopped breathing during that dream. Instead, she sat up and looked over to her left, to his side of the bed. The vacant, sloping plane of his side. She wiped her eyes instinctively, and smoothed the still-taut sheet on his side. She hoped it might be warm, but it was as cold as it was every morning. “After all these days,” she said. She lay back down in the crater that was her side of the bed, not unaware of the slope up to his side she had driven into it, as she was no longer in the shape she had been when he passed. She shut her eyes as tightly as she could, hoping to block out the rising sun, and decided to sleep through yet another morning.
“Can we kiq it”
Photo by TRAVIS SEALE Styling by VARA AYANNA