Every page is blood and sweat and ideas. They sit stacked and slowly turning into yellow in the midst of somewhere they ended up. I used to hold on to everything and my room was stacks and boxes and backing boards and posters and toys. And now, all I have is a radio and a nightstand. I used to feel the need to have everything but now I am slowly realizing that none of us have anything. We borrow it for awhile. And then we all go to a sideways house and sit and wait for someone who wants to read us again.

Photo - N
Words - S