Full-sized mirrors surrounded Cat, forcing her to gaze at the empty stares of a woman’s silhouette. Her arms were crossed, and she was cradling a baby. A smaller, hand-held mirror materialised neatly into Cat’s hand, becoming inundated with memories—forcing her to fixate on forgotten dreams gone by. Her gaze lingered on Ian, the deepest and most regrettable desire of her heart.
‘Luna Sangrante’ by M. Constance: 2021, digital art.
New Moon Rising
Blackout poetry by Lily Iervasi.
Angel of Death
‘Angel of Death’ by Taylah Livanes: 2021, digital painting.
Despite the stark difference between a soldier’s need for slaughter and the relentless research of the sage, they were one and the same in the end: naive wanderers—none of whom would ever know the sun’s warmth again. If one believed everything they heard, at least. Around me, these tales upon tales were all eagerly dismissed—but still… still, I wondered. Perhaps I am one of many. But I am no man.
One summer, your mama took us to the forest to collect Schnittlauch.
We came home and mixed the Schnittlauch with our pancake batter,
and I was happy, because these pancakes were not sour, or familiar like our Dosas.
“We Are So Fragile”
A visual interview with Jamie Cardillo
A visual interview with Elian Au
Yasmin felt her heart begin to swell – a crackling fire, a wave coming in with the tide. Maybe this was what liking a girl – really liking a girl – was like.
A series by Sophia Thompson