Daniel Zvereff photographs the arctic using rare expired film that manipulates the colors
i’m just one sad misinterpretation away from being too close but
even less from being too distant
but what if no one chases me? and fuck,
what if i’m hoping someone does?
and I’m plaguing myself with so many fucking
you traded thunder in the meadows
for a drizzle and a cup of tea;
the heat of august wildfires
for the warmth of an october hearth.
we were secrets, stories
written on scraps tucked in the pages of pretty diaries.
we were lingering whispers of nightmare kisses;
fever tangled in labyrinthine…
oh and this.