Meursault

[templewhite]

Crucified Woman, 1913

Frantisek Drtikol

[digitalf0untains]

Maya Hawke by Kat Irlin

[brdapr]

Blood stains the depth of my fingertips from the scabs I continue to pick. The tension mounting in lieu of the silence that looms across the room. We sin in starvation of pallets whose flavor tastes taboo. With chosen words so carefully, you hurt me, and in return I will hurt you. The tires continue he to rotate even after the wear and tear. The mileage exceeded the limits on the odometer.

[brdapr]

[brdapr]

[colonellickburger]

Robert Frank. Ben James, Welsh Miner. 1951

[mehanjodidootravez]

Lindsey Kevitch by © Collin Stark

[jamesacai]

🫀

[brdapr]

Basement dwellers ruminating on past deeds, as the past feeds fades away micro aggressions that can’t be overlooked.

I don’t want to capture moments anymore, I don’t want to be reminded.

[brdapr]

I dwell on the things that I should have let go from now. Regret has always been easier for me.

[brdapr]

It’s always so much simpler in retrospect.

[la-misericorde]

Ilinca on instant film / evie desmarais

[brdapr]

We held our breaths and waited for you to take yours first. Counted the seconds until you could be held by us, starved ourselves of the satisfaction as you quenched your thirst. You cried out to the world as you opened your eyes, smacked your lips desperately wanting to be fed. My feet drenched from the tears that flood the floor as I rock you back to sleep from the foot of our bed. You’ll never comprehend just how much I love you.

Here lies another moment of transparency masked under the guise of exposure. Premeditated murder of the closure within. We countdown the days where tranquility is the only notion. We worry that sadness looms every conversation to the point that pain is the only emotion left. Voices get raised, then slowly brought back down in attempt to keep you shielded from discontent. Your little face observing love fighting it’s hardest to carry through.

The golden parachute forgot to deploy, the surface draws closer as we continue speeding below. If the crash were the end of it, I'd rejoice in a state of euphoria, but we all know that is far too good to be true.

[nevver]

Jim Benton

[casadabiqueira]

Repairing the Hull of the Graf Zeppelin during the flight over the Atlantic

Alfred Eisenstaedt, 1934

[pmamtraveller]

Simon Leclerc - Reader

[apublicspace14]

Dmitry Schekochihin