Fragments
My cheeks are puffy; my eyes are the eyes of over-fed goldfish.
Annulé
The odd car careers around the twist in the road. Another slows hauntingly, to check whether I’m a ghost.
Mandarins in April
Houssem’s yellowing teeth flicker like the flame rising from the pyre of Saharan cypress.
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The commercial conundrum: dissolving or embracing queerness
When we’re constantly defining new identities and it’s core to our sense of self to play with these, can’t we be more ambitious for advertising and the narratives the industry is creating?
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From sardines to sang froid
As gusts swirl, the mastheads clamour for attention, like the percussion section in a school orchestra.
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Quarantine
Between flailing limbs, the expanse of Earth comes into view until the Pacific is obscured by Dimitri’s dancing palms.
…musing and searching for meaning
No one is being levelled up or levelled down; all of us, farmer and financier alike, “are in this together”.
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…tips, reflections, helplines.
This is pretty fucking shit. But we can all help each other to try and make it a bit less shit. Less judgement. More kindness.
…tips, reflections, helplines. Read More »
Côte Vermeille
For now, the Côte Vermeille is dank. Spring is meant to arrive soon, but winter is haunting us too.
