power
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On holding something irreversible. The first time I shot a gun, it wasn’t a small one. It was an M95 — heavy, black, unmistakably military. The kind of weapon whose shape alone tells you it was designed for places where words have already failed. I remember the weight of it before anything else. How it
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Inspired by the quiet tension in Sofia Isella’s work, and by the quiet predictability of certain men. You stink of lotion and stale bravado,thumb hovering like a coward over “incognito,”pretending secrecy is the same thing as innocence.It isn’t. It’s just cowardice with better lighting. You call it desire,but it’s really control with a pulse—a need
Analog nights 