ashes-the-book

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

[ashes-the-book]

“It seemed a shame sometimes, that we could exalt in such profound writing, whether in the form of song or script, but scarcely ever came to recognition of the sadness it took to devise such a piece.”

— Ashes, Ianna N. Cosgrove

[ashes-the-book]

Ashes, the book…

[ashes-the-book]

“When I wake up in the morning, there comes a conscious baring of how sickening a mental sadness is. It’s an overpowering need to hurl or faint, or rip my skin open at every edge that overtakes. 

The disease will arrive in form, in an unfair assail, from many causes or perhaps none at all, at least not known. But I’ll bring my hands up to feel the fragility of my face, where my mind sits above, at an attempt to feel human, and wonder why I’m here...”

— Ashes, Ianna N. Cosgrove

[ashes-the-book]

January 1st 1971 True sadness is the grievous wiping of alcohol to an un-healing and growing gash, and the reminder by every stroke that stings of the burning, causing trauma.

ASHES, Ianna N. Cosgrove

[ashes-the-book]

ASHES — the book

[ashes-the-book]

For I had believed, even if we were not the kindest souls, we suffered enough to merit white wings and soar…

ASHES, Ianna N. Cosgrove

[ashes-the-book]

ASHES — the book

[ashes-the-book]

ASHES — the book