ZEPHYR MAGAZINE #03 by Zephyr Magazine

ZEPHYR issue 03

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ZEPHYR MAGAZINE 03

photography & fashion anthea charalambous model alex sinadinovic @ london mgt

COUCH SURFING IN NORTH COTE a skateboarders journey through melbourne.

PHOTO & WORDS DOON

west cruisin coast Portrait of a US roadtrip

PHOTOGRAPHY & WORDS SAM CONNELLY

POST VEGAS Viva Las Vegas. I hate that place. Vegas is the worst place on earth. They should relocate Guantanamo Bay inmates there for one weekend if they really wanted to torture them. Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s a prison full of monsters and fucked up creatures preying on your soul. So we bailed. We jumped in our Scooby-Doo van and got the fuck out of there. After finally finding a Wal-Mart to get supplies, we headed into the desert. This was one of the most painful days of my life. We were all so spent that it was a miracle we made it to our destination. Smiley was so fucking sick he was throwing up everywhere. I was falling asleep at the wheel and Brez was having a nap in the passenger seat. Our souls were lost, we were broke as fuck and had nowhere to go. At the very least, we had cans of chili and rice..

JOSHUA TREE NP.

California is cool. Everyone went crazy in the van when we returned to Cali after visiting other states. It’s definitely The Golden State. Everything is just perfect—the weather, the landscape, the food. San Fran is like Sydney and Melbourne on steroids. We spent Mexican holiday Cinco de Mayo in the Mission District. It was sick! We ate burritos that w,,ere the size of our heads as we sipped on Pacificos and walked up the road to a dive bar we spotted earlier. This place was dope! It was covered in red velvet and played soul music. One afternoon we went to the Italian district of San Fran, known as North Beach. We spent the afternoon drinking red wine and eating olives on the sidewalk as we perved on the action and talked about life. We later found a cool Italian restaurant that was playing old Italian movies. After a few bottles of wine, some of the best pizza I’ve ever tasted and some quality shit talking with the Australian owner, we slowly made our way back to the other side of town where we were staying.

GRAND CANYON

Our trip around the West Coast

tent to see light seeping through

and The Midwest of America was un-

the trees and got the fire and cof-

planned, all but a few places we knew

fee going for everyone. Once eve-

we wanted to check out. Coachella

ryone was awake we got our hiking

was over and we just got in the car

boots on and set off to the rim of

and drove. Through a fucking sand

the canyon. Holy fuck this thing is

storm. We had a rest day at Joshua

massive! I really didn’t expect it to

Tree National Park, which was one of

be this big. It is over a mile deep and

our favourite places. We thought we

you could just see the Colorado

would drive to the Grand Canyon

River winding through the bottom

and check it all out. The drive from

of it. I was absolutely shitting my

Joshua Tree to Arizona was pretty

pants at the thought of descending

cool. We crossed the Colorado Riv-

down the donkey trail into the Can-

er and arrived at the Grand Canyon

yon. I’m so afraid of heights. Once it

late in the afternoon. It was freez-

was all over, we got some supplies

ing! We set up camp in a pretty cool

and it started to fucking snow! Me

spot and made a fire to get warm.

and Smiley where high-fiving each

We cooked some dinner and had a

other because it was our turn to

couple of beers before going to

sleep in the van that night. We all

bed after a long day spent driving.

bought these gay Long Johns from

I was freezing cold the whole night

the store and tried to keep warm

and didn’t sleep. I jumped out of the

by the fire for the rest of the night.

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ZEKE’S

LUNCH BOX

Becoming Zema words Chelsea Anstee, art alana cappetta

You might remember the friendly and ec-

“Darlinghurst just opened up its arms and

centric fellow that owned Medieval Disco.

took me in. That’s where I felt at home,” he

You loved him because he offered you

says as he crafts a cigarette without break-

perfectly transformed vintage clothing in a

ing eye contact.

sun-drenched space with fantastic dressing rooms overlooking Wollongong mall. But

Zema never anticipated he would leave

have you heard Zema Chulio’s story?

Darlinghurst. That is, until he met Tom and shifted into his suburban family home. “I’ve

Zema is reliving the moment he unofficially

had a full life of living in the city. When you’re

changed his name from John Charles. It

in love, you could almost be anywhere in the

happened soon after he left his conserva-

world.” As Zema says this, the smile creases

tive Spanish family home and immersed

go beyond his face and extend to the skin of

himself in the underground nightlife of Syd-

his nearly bald head. The contrast between

ney. It was 1973 and Costello’s was a place

stories of yesteryear and life today is stark,

where underage club-goers were turned a

but the admiration for his partner shines

blind eye. It was also a place where adult

brighter than I imagine Zema did walking

men knew they could find underage boys.

across Taylor Square in his gold lame ski

Most significantly, it was an establishment

pants that time in 1974. “He has bought a lot

that became the centre of the 1980s Sydney

of stability to my life and with him I’ve been

pedophilia investigations. Zema knew the

able to develop aspects of myself that were

people involved, but asserts they never had

underdeveloped,” Zema glows.

the opportunity to affect him. “They knew they couldn’t throw any of that bullshit at

La Coruña is the coastal Spanish town where

me.” That night 40 years ago, an unwanted

Zema spent the first ten years of his life, and

stranger tried to pick Zema up at that same

these origins explain why he pronounces

bar. He was 14 years old. “I didn’t want to

his name ‘Zima’ rather than the phonetic.

tell him my name, so I told him I was Zema.”

Zema’s parents circumnavigated the world during the Franco dictatorship in search of a

From that point onward, Zema was free of

safer place to raise their children. The con-

his former identity and any associated re-

servative Galician town is referred to as ‘the

sponsibility. He loved every minute of it.

end of the world’ in local dialect because

of its stature as the most western point on

knowledge and devouring it.” Zema makes

the European continent. It is full of classical

particular mention of the banned literature

architecture from the 1500s and may sug-

he had access to through his friendship cir-

gest why Zema—a truly modern man—is so

cles, content inclusive of gaol-based homo

fundamentally divided between the old and

erotica.

the new. His penchant for experimenting with cloth-

“I believe we’re all bisexual by nature; to me it’s a natural state.”

ing and ‘gender bending’ went hand-in-hand with his early appreciation for sex with both men and women—a belief he still upholds today: “I believe we’re all bisexual by nature; to me it’s a natural state.” The list of underground ‘scenes’ that Zema has played a hand in cultivating is nothing short of impressive: Prepunk, punk, new wave, dance, techno, rave, avant-garde – you name it. One thing he remembers most significantly about his days in the ‘stomping

Things changed when Zema stepped off the

ground’ are the hypnotic sedative tablets

ocean liner onto the wharf at Circular Quay.

referred to as ‘mandrax,’ ‘mandies’ or US

He learned English very quickly and was a

brand name ‘Quaaludes’. “They were the

class entertainer by the end of his first year

biggest uninhibitors,” Zema says as he re-

at Paddington Primary. His finely tailored

calls dinner parties turning into unified orgies

trousers stood out in a sea of stubby shorts

with corporate lawyers and street kids.

and thongs. Although it all “came out in the wash” in the Once Zema turned 15, he could no longer

early 1980s, Zema is shocked that doctors

get away with returning home for money.

would insouciantly provide a 15-year-old with

So he found a job in hospitality. Having res-

a repeat prescription for the sedative when

taurateurs for parents meant it was a natu-

they asked for it. As a result of its increasing

ral progression and the thriving restaurant

misuse, the manufacture, purchase, posses-

scene provided him with the funds and time-

sion and distribution of methaqualone be-

liness to squeeze the potential out of Sydney

came outlawed in 1984.

nightlife. Zema’s new friends were his admission

“We were the originators. As you were mov-

into the secret world of underground Syd-

ing, you were pushing the boundary,” Zema

ney. “They would treat me as an adult. They

recalls. This idea of ‘catching on first’ is

could see that I was intelligent and seeking

something that Zema never lost. In fact it was

only when the sound coming from the ga-

love for a reliable medieval look that pops

rage was referred to as music that I realized

up every few seasons in fashion, and the

it wasn’t a piece of metal banging cyclically

‘disco’, which refreshes the old into the new.

in the clothes dryer. “Three years ago when I

It was this outlet that enabled Zema to meet

had the shop I went through a techno period

like-minded young people, some of whom

when no one else was listening to it, but now

encouraged him to pursue university and of-

they are. Now I’m listening to industrial mu-

fer up the talents of his critical mind. Seven

sic,” Zema explains.

years later Zema said goodbye to the project that gave Wollongong creatives a place

He still manages to maintain a sense of in-

to meet and headed for a Bachelor of Visual

dividualism in his comfort zone. Today he’s

Arts at the University of Wollongong to pur-

wearing pantaloon-style lounge pants that

sue his critical thinking.

gather in at the knee and tube around his calf. His shoulders are thin compared to the

Just last week Zema decided to drop his

rest of his body and they are adorned in a

aura of exclusivity after having a conversa-

large cap-sleeved t-shirt with a scooped

tion with a university mentor. “To be a vis-

hem and a nonsensical shape appliquéd

ual artist, you have to be inclusive and not

on the front. His footwear resembles wetsuit

dismissive,” he says as he laughs back at

shoes and I suspect they are a fashion the

all the times he excluded people who lived

rest of the world will catch up with in a year

north of the Sydney Harbour Bridge or didn’t

or so.

know Roxy Music.

In 2005, Zema found himself on the doorstep

This afternoon, Zema is in the middle of

of Wollongong Central Chambers asking for

cooking a spinach, tomato and feta frittata

a spare space to occupy. Soon there was a

for dinner and the spinach needs close at-

secluded little shop above the mall adorned

tention – “a buzzer just went off in here,”

with clothing of all eras imaginable. If you

Tom politely interrupts through the fly screen

snuck a look, you could see the sunny sew-

door. Each time Zema returns to the ve-

ing room at the front of the shop, where

randah table, he voluntarily begins talking

Zema edited 50-year-old designs to match

about a new aspect of his life. This time he

the season. “It’s hard to sell younger gen-

talks about his age and how little it worries

erations styles they aren’t familiar with. You

him. The 54-year-old looks ten years young-

have to compromise and recontextualise

er and seems ten years older in his mind.

them.” He certainly wasn’t an amateur, hav-

Yet with all of his life experience, Zema con-

ing studied fashion design at East Sydney

cludes there are only two important things in

TAFE first thing after leaving school.

life: Love and learning.

His shop Medieval Disco is self-explanatory in title. It represents a mixture of Zema’s

magnoliophyta photography sarah cavallaro, model amanda @ chic

“LOVE IS A MYSTERY I DONT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS” On the first day of summer I find myself standing on the corner of Kingsland Road and Laburnum Street, without an umbrella, as the rain drums hard against the pavement and my shoes fill up with water. I have with me every relic of my life in London condensed into three tatty suitcases. My hat is torn; I pull the brim down to shield my face from the savage wind. I am going home. * A year earlier this was surely paradise. London greets me with big arms of concrete and steel. I welcomed the summer rain and tilted my face towards the dark clouds to feel the first warm drops on my skin. The air was alive with the ‘hum-buzz-whir’ of London traffic; giant red busses and shiny RollsRoyce whiz through the streets like a herd of iron wildebeest. Amongst the totalitarian structures of our neighborhood, there were bursts of green, spotted here and there with fragrant clusters of jasmine and wet grass. In the corner of our estate I stood beneath the worshipping trees, filling my pockets with the dandelions that spread across the lawn like a yellow disease. * Months later the bed is unmade, the red bordello sheets lie strewn across the floor. We relish in our

static life together. The bathroom is wet with fresh paint and the two of us lay entwined, folding inside the romantic chasms of each other’s flesh. We make love, lazily, our bellies full. Exchanging existential acts; we drift in and out of sleep. There is only us. Though outside snow falls in the empty parking lot, we are drowned in an ocean of unstained light. His naked body, pale against the red sheets, is worthy of a photograph. He whimpers in his sleep and I wake him with kisses. * We were living off tips and kept what little money we had in a brown envelope in the sock drawer. We were poor but always well dressed. I liked to watch him in the morning. I’d sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch with earnest as he went through his ritual of wet shaving and combing his hair just so. I particularly loved the ivory and badger-hair brushes, the small tubs of sandalwood soap and the amber glass bottles of cologne and antiseptic. * I loved that December. I was there, I saw him, I loved him, and ate with him. The moments we spent, huddled beneath the desolate scenery of London’s fallen pleasure domes, night after night, awkward and happy as we travelled as far as we could go, into one another. At dinner we sat side by side like school children, warmed by wine and food and love for each other. Unmindful of the others in

does not exist, because mere the room. In love we are a pair things offer no resistance. But of bled corpses, we did not need with us the operation is different. words or explanation. We lived Love exhausts me. Yet our love together in mutual understanding. is maintained by little else than Two young bodies engaged in acts oxygen and the sentiments of two of mere existence. White rivers of worlds in a petri dish. I used to flesh, or funeral lilies. We moved lie awake at night absorbed by the for months in solemn ritual and plant green stars, but love has were pulled apart by the ebbing of deformed me, not yet obliterated the tide, as hours spent in ennui me; I am tarred by the same brush rushed forth like amniotic fluid of so many and cannot resist when the womb is torn open and the peeling the sticky viscous from my unborn child dies. skin. I hid inside love for a while, * like the mad do, bodies marred, I feel love, although I am so chained, until I sought sanctity used to life playing dexterous in destruction. My darkest fear is tricks on me that I am not sure not being able to love again. it is love, but some kind of You are the yellowish watermark mystery, some smoke and mirrors on the clean wall of my human trick. Johnnyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s grey cadaverous existence. face, the streaks of silver in Love is a mystery; I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t want to his moustache, do not love. No know what it means. one has ever moved me with such strength and beauty in suffering * as him. I do not like how fluid my WORDS RACHAEL DORN emotions are; I do not trust my senses. I am forever going through the ritual of being reborn into some strange new feeling that I do not recognise. I feel too much at one time, so much feeling courses through me. I am so full of contradiction, to the point where I have nothing left to offer him, or anyone, except absolute bewilderment. * Our destruction forms like any scar, when the body is affected by a foreign concept, and like any scar, it forms only on the skin of a living, complex thing. In simple circumstances, destruction

NICK SANTORO

KINGPIN Photography Brett Randall all clothing from kingpin store

Model Erica East, @ericaeast1

Photography Fiona Titheridge & Samuel Connelly, Fashion Anthea Charalambous,

THIS IS ERICA

follow. We’re just not responsible for anything that happens after.

Look we get it, you’re probably going to have an insta stalk and (if you’re brave enough) give her a lil’

show us what she’s about: that means Beyoncè steez with Australian cool, so we’re all about that life.

bikinis. We love Erica, so naturally she had to grace our centerfold (Babes in Hats shoot) this issue to

our palms sweaty, and her eyes transport us to a parallel universe where babes float on clouds in string

We met Erica partying at Parkside and haven’t really stopped gawking since. Just looking at her makes

Stussy hat from Finbox, Maurie & Eve dress from Babes Nike shoes from Kingpin

Vintage hat stylists own Ginger & Smart suit from Frolic Opposite Critical Slide Society hat from Finbox Lee & Me shirt from Lee & Me Zimmerman jumpsuit from Plume

Stussy hat from Finbox Maurie & Eve dress from Babes

Vanishing Elephant hat & Mr Simple shirt from Lee & Me Camilla & Marc dress from Frolic

Ample Creative hat from Finbox Lola vs Harper bra from Frolic By Malene Birger skirt from Plume

Kingpin hat from Kingpin Vintage earring stylists own Manning Cartell dress from Frolic

Critical Slide Society hat from Finbox Kingpin shirt from Kingpin Kahlo skirt from Frolic

Kingpin hat from Kingpin Vintage earring stylists own Zimmerman dress from Plume

Stussy hat from Finbox Vintage shirt from Tuesday Vintage Bec & Bridge dress from Babes

Kingpin hat from Kingpin Krew jacket from Kingpin Maurie & Eve dress from Babes

Racism exists in every congruent paradigm of the layer cake that is Australian society, where (paradoxically) multiculturalism is synonymous with the Australian dream. Herein lies the deepest moral conundrum. Are you racist? Are you sure? Growing up as a member of a country-born family, left of sanity - straight on ‘till white redemption didn’t help my judgment. I’ll be first to admit, between my father’s passive aggressive outlook on the flawed philosophy that is racial assimilation and my mother’s discontent for anything but “meat 3 veg” I found myself presiding in the deepest of white holes. Am I racist? No, surely not. I constructed pitiful ladders to reclaim my pseudo-humanism.

”they have culturally insignificant beliefs in this magnificent modern age” ”they don’t understand globalisation” ” they simply don’t want to be apart of the bigger picture” They, they, they – you racist motherfucker. Now if you’re not of white European decent, or hold a particularly humanistic pedagogy, the next part of this is going to offend the fuck out of you. For this, I am truly sorry, I feel however my path to enlightment holds absolute truth and I want to share it with you. How do I know I’m not racist?

I slept with a black chick.

RACISIM words Myles Bateman

A N D R E A O ’ RYA N

Shining Bird Tour diary by Riccardo Quirke

MUsic FarMers Vinyl record specialists 5 Crown Lane, woLLongong musiCfarmers.Com

At Salty Speed Co. our good friends Sam Connelly and Matt Hipsley turn old motorbikes into custom weapons of road-badassery. With enough converted rust-buckets under their belt to call themselves legit, one half of the design/engineering dreamteam took a minute to chat to us about what they do. For road warriors they are both super nice guys, so I hope that doesn’t ruin their reputation. Just so you know I haven’t prepared any questions for this. Ok sounds good let’s do this. Sell yourself to the people, Who are you and what is Salty Speed Co... Ok! That was the first question... Oh haha… We’re going to be here for a while aren’t we? Put a question mark at the end! It was implied. Salty Speed Co. is a custom motorcycle company - we make badass custom machines from Bratstyle, Trackers and Cafe Racer Motorcycles. Salty is a two-man team: Matt Hipsley and myself. Matt is a Civil Engineer by trade and I’m a graphic designer. We both love surfing and motorbikes, so we combine engineering skills with a

SALTYSPEEDCO. interview, chris barker

passion for classic cars, bikes and surfing to produce some pretty damn fun custom machines! Good answer. Do you actually know what you’re doing though? (Remember, sell yourself to the people!) We decided to buy an old bike together, so we bought a 1972 Honda CB250 which taught us a lot. It was a simple but tough design and once we finished it we haven’t been able to stop. Hip has really strong engineering skills, and I bring the design element to the table which ends up working really well both functionally and aesthetically. How does it work now? Do you just find random bikes to finish or do people bring their own junk-heaps for you to fix? Well after we finished “Cindy” ( Honda CB250 ) it got some hype on the world wide interweb - blogs such as Return of the Cafe Racer and Bike Shed featured it which totally surprised us. Straight after that we got a call from two guys in Sydney wanting us to build them bikes. So we helped them purchase the original stock bikes and they brought them for us to work on. Who is Cindy? Cindy is our love child and the first bike we built. And it really got the ball rolling here at Salty. Now we have a obsession with vintage Honda twins. Stop lying, is she named after a porn star?

You could say that, they don’t make ‘em like they used to. Could you make me a Big Freedia bike where the exhaust is her butt. Well we make custom bikes, so we can do whatever you like. Have you heard the song “Motorcycle Go Go Go!” by Female Japanese punk band the 5,6,7,8’s? Is that on Kill Bill? Yep, they play it before she kills the Crazy 88’s. Oh yeah! Fuckin’ rad scene Where do you see Salty going over the next few years? Do you have any major things at the moment? Well I make a damn good lattè, so maybe a venue with a garage and coffee machine where people can hang would be cool. But at the moment we are just focusing on releasing the bikes we just finished, photos, videos etc. We are working on our Yamaha Scorpio Surf Tracker build and Yamaha SR400 Bratstyle build, which we will offer to the public as set builds. They are looking to be really fun practical bikes and look badass at the same time! Will you start a motorcycle gang? A Salty Gang? Fuck yeah. That’s why we ride isn’t it? haha. You should call yourself “The Bath Salt Riders” so nobody will fuck with you. Mmmm bath salts... Thats going to be the pull quote for this interview you know… No! What should I listen to when I’m riding your bikes? Muddy Waters & The Rolling Stones and Mass Production by Iggy Pop Ok last question: Who rode the best motorbike of all time: Anthony Hopkins in The Worlds Fastest Indian, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible 2 or the dude from TRON. Defiantly Anthony Hopkins Wrong: The correct answer is Trinity from The Matrix Reloaded, sorry. dammit! Thanks for your time Thanks dude!

PHOTOGRAPHY PAT McKINNON

Every Sunday this guy sits in Washington Square Park (the epicenter of Manhattan’s NYU district) to have an honest talk with anyone who feels like it. Christopher Barker took a seat and recorded the conversation… Hi, how are you? I’m very good. It’s super sunny outside. I have a huge jacket I took with me, but I don’t need it so I’m not sure what to do. How long have you been doing this? Sporadically for a few years, but just over a month ago I started in this area of the park, to give it some consistency and a regular place for people to go.

people are coming here just to walk through it, most are coming through because they want to see what’s up. I hate when people walk in and take a picture of the fountain but they don’t sit on it, I can’t see the point of experiencing life that way. There is a rainbow in the middle of the fountain, who doesn’t want that… Right? People are weird. That guy over there is taking photos with his iPad. Who does that…

Why did you come here? The shape of the park and the atmosphere of it makes me feel a little more outgoing and a little more open to possibilities. A lot of open-minded people come here.

You talk to whoever will come and sit down next to you. How are the people of New York these days? I’m not sure to be honest. Everyone turns this into whatever they need to. That’s why the sign doesn’t say Free Conversation or Free Advice, I just want people to come and sit down and use this as they need to use it. So every single person has their own thing that they turn this into. But no one has ever left with a negative feeling.

(as he is talking, a banjo band starts a hoedown whilst a man rides past on a unicycle eating an ice cream). It’s not that everyone comes here expecting something, but it’s an openminded atmosphere. Not a lot of

Do people usually resolve their own issues? A lot of the time, yeah. Sometimes an older (usually male, usually the age of 45 or more) will come up - not all the time but I’d say about 85% of the time – they

AN HONEST CONVERSATION interview, chris barker

approach me because they want to say something rude. Like, “You shouldn’t be doing this, you don’t have life experience, etc.” But if I get them to sit down, nobody ever leaves feeling the same way. I can’t always get them to sit though, and it’s only that age group. A lot of people come up and are like, “Hey what’s this? This is cool,” and some people just get it immediately and they’re like, “Hey I want to talk about this.” What do you get out of it? A lot of people ask me that, which I guess isn’t surprising. People come up and they’re like, “Yo are you writing a book, is this a social experiment, what do you get out of this?” It’s literally just community building. The idea behind it, and the whole reason its called An Honest Conversation, is the persona of an honest man – the whole idea is that anyone can do this, you just need to be willing in a certain way. A lot of people say “Oh I’d be great at this I give good advice.” Nooo, nobody gets advice unless they specifically ask for it. And if they do ask for it, I make it clear this is MY advice of what I would do – and they need to acknowledge that first. I don’t want anyone to come up and be like, “Hey give me advice” and then use it. I just

want to talk. What do you do with the rest of your time? I work at Billboard for a new film thing they are doing. I just moved to Williamsburg and I do this on Sundays. I’ve been working a lot lately, not just at Billboard but freelance stuff and I haven’t gotten out that much. In a way this is going out for me. This is me doing what I want to do with my time. What’s it like working for Billboard? It’s cool. They’re trying to put Beyoncé in space. Really? Yeah for the first concert in space with Jay Z. I’m not involved, I shouldn’t really talk about it but I just know it’s happening. Lance Bass is crying in his room somewhere right now. What is your view of people from doing this? My mood towards humanity hasn’t changed at all – I’ve always felt the same way; which is I don’t like humanity as a whole, but that’s because as a whole we don’t work well - but that’s not to say the same for individuals.

Is that because baby boomers seem to hate you so much? Fuckin’ baby boomers man… “Who do you think you are doin’ this shit?” But really, most of the time I get them to sit down and by the end they take back what they say – almost every time. One guy sat next to me and I thought he knew what I was doing, but then he read the sign and spent about 20 minutes trying to discourage me from doing it. By an hour later he was talking about his wife and all this other stuff. And by the end he was like oh...that was great… thank you very much. Where are you from? Australia, near Sydney. Oh, I almost moved to Manly. What happened? I spent a lot of time travelling and living in different cities and seeing where I thought I was capable of living. What was your criteria? I love cities, and every city I went to and would travel to, I loved all of them. But this is the one that fit me most I guess. It’s a weird thing…there has to

be someone studying that. It’s a really weird phenomenon. I went to the Bahamas once, and I looked outside my window and I just thought ‘what the fuck am I doing’, but I felt the exact same way in L.A where I actually knew people. So I ended up here. It doesn’t make any sense but I guess it’s not meant to… At this point I kind of realized that recording this conversation felt wrong – against the idea that such a random encounter should stay unrepeated so I turned the mic off. We talked for another hour or so, diverting from living in the Caribbean to kids going to school on Mars and the appropriate use of sunscreen in winter. I’m not saying it’s worth listening to, but for someone looking for an honest conversation, it was about as real as it could get…

ZEPHYR SOCIAL parkside edition PHOTOGRAPHY TROY LANGENDOEN

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thanks Ericaeast

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