Petite Burr
10 Words

Sometimes the dreamers, thinkers and artists are born of circumstance.

“I was so busy trying to maintain my shell, preventing any of my broken, scrambled self from spilling out onto the sidewalk. I couldn’t let any of the ugliness show, not yours and what I thought was mine too. You were convincing, implying how wrong I was about everything. You wore white; I was always dressed in your hand selected shade of grey. All the long while, I shrouded myself in uncertainty, a conflicted reality. Yes, I kept the secrets, and yes, you were right and you’ve always been right. I was wrong about everything, there are no more secrets and I no longer stand in your grey shadow.”
— M. L. Lurie, The Lost Journals

Photographer — Aaron Siskind

The Glue Factory
Grenades and Landmines

She was doubt,
And she knew it.
Yet, in her heart
She was always more
Than the counterculture image
Of a hundred Warhol glances.
An “It Girl” lookalike,
Deteriorating
Becoming invisible
Abrasive hands
Slowly eroding
With a menacing tone;
Time: winter’s ice
A mirror for reflection.

When the rain arrives
Where do the Papillons hide?
And why,
Do they break wild horses?

“The very things I might have given in to, that demanded, that said, this is your life. I mean, this is your only way to survive, are the things I fought hardest to end. ‘Cause I believed in something else. And um, what makes that sane is that I can understand other people’s situations in their own terms, but ‘they’ still can’t understand mine.”
— Edie Sedgwick

Mazzy Star – “Into Dust” . .