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maybe memory is all the home we’re allowed
I remember the first place I moved out to. It was still, serene, as all plodding outskirts of farm properties are. I thought it was apt that I resided next to a cemetery. It was the attractive part, curated with manicured grass and linear rows of granite headstones. At day, you were meant to grieve;… Read more
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Is That Human Hair? A Brief History of Mourning Jewellery
Love of the macabre hasn’t always been isolated to your local goth population. Read more
Print Issue #7 “Memento Mori” (2021)
1–2 minutes
