Fawn’s Nightingale

Ellen Rogers Photography


Fawn’s Nightingale
100 Words

Each new dawn brings forth beauty’s naïve doe-eyed uncertainty, with slightly parted lips, shallow breath exhales to the clock’s tick. Her moon does its duty, arching across the sky, far behind the good sun. Frustration follows temptation towards the cobblestones of twilight, before reaching the pause of midnight. There’s a certain ripeness and longing contained within the dark, where anything and everything is possible. While all is lulled by sleep’s stagnation, beauty’s uncertainty grows restless. No longer a keepsake, she envisions the once unattainable in the distance, across a field of thorns, her brave heart dares to barefoot the crossing.


“I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.”
― Anne Sexton

Groove Armada – “
Think Twice



Marrow’s Mediocrity

Photographer — Francesca Woodman


Marrow’s Mediocrity
100 Words

Having met life’s fate in the winter of my youth, I’ve lived my passions in pursuit of the truth. Stigma and fear jailed my beliefs, keeping my love under lock and key, found near starvation in rags of hand-me-downs, sucking on pebbles to silence the hunger, blocking the ritual: speaking in tongues. Necromancy of the resurrection, all memories have since fallen away, swirling as leaves on a tempestuous day. Vacant lots of strange-strangers: the half-past dead, unknowing stand-ins for what’s ahead. While waiting for the Four Winds to carry me away, I’m wondering — what’s the weight of a human soul?


“I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am.”
― René Descartes

Hindi Zahra – “
Don’t Forget