...as far away from myself as I can go...

 Iris Schomaker









Ko. machiyama










 zichao hou




Yves Crenn

What little wind there is, cold
A car passes, unknown passengers
The temporary warming light
Soon gone disappeared
Hand fishing for keys in pockets
Through a door into shade
The empty streets replaced 

Peter Ilsted

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before

Henri Lebasque







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1. line - t. s. eliot
2. line - m.holloway
3. line- EDGAR ALLAN POE