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Cape Cod in winter

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Sunflower Selfie

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Blue eyes

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we're staying cool

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Sao Joao Cemetery - Lisbon

Family Mausoleums

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Black-Eyed Susan

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Defaced photographs.

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This is our life now

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This is the fifth year of martial law. My four year old son has never been outside. It's impossible. The Geheime Staatspolizei (formerly ICE) are everywhere. Anyone found on the street is subject to summary execution. 

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Staglieno Cemetery. Statuary

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Time to ditch these pants

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Where to?

It's very dark and I'm in the car

Mom is driving

She's had a psychotic break

She's terrified and paranoid

And we are traveling at high speed

Down no-name streets through an anonymous city.

It is very dark

Let me drive, I say, I can drive

Staring through the windshield, she says with irritation, don't you understand?

I need a phone. 

I tried to hand her my phone. You think you're funny? I need a real phone.

She threw my phone back at me. Not one of these. 

Be useful, she said, look for a payphone. 

Look mom, I said, pointing, right there on that corner. A phone

Oh, I don't have time for that, she said as she plowed right by it. 

I could tell she was getting even more agitated. 

She hit my leg with her fist. I-MUST-NOT-BE_LATE

She hurt me. Rubbing my leg, I said okay, mom

We traveled fifteen minutes in silence

Her foot pushed the brake. We were slowing down. Where are we, I said.

Here, she said. We're here.

She turned right. We were in an empty city lot.

Not empty. In the middle was a large helicopter. Guarded by armed men

Stay here, she said. No prob I said, I'm not moving. 

I won't be needing these, she said, handing me the keys.

I watched as she strode towards the helicopter.

Men saluted as she climbed the stairs and disappeared inside.

I watched as the stairs were stowed and the helicopter disappeared into the night sky

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rhedeg i ffwrdd (runaway)

Rhedais trwy'r goedwig, gan wrthdaro â changhennau â drain wrth imi ddychmygu'r bwystfil yn rhwygo popeth, gan ei deimlo yn fy nilyn, heb newyn ond â chynddaredd llofrudd. Roedd y rhostir yn asphyxiating, roedd fy aelwyd ar fin ffrwydro ond fe orfododd yr ofn anghonciadwy i mi fynd ymlaen.

Nid wyf yn gwybod pa mor hir yr wyf wedi bod yn rhedeg, ond mae'r gwaed yn glynu fy nillad; heb reswm rwy'n troi o gwmpas ac yno y mae: rwy'n syllu ar y llawr, nid wyf yn meiddio edrych arno, ond rwy'n teimlo ei fod yn gwenu, yn fy gwawdio. Mae wedi fy maglu.

Mae casineb ffyrnig yn gwenwyno fy nghorff; Rwy'n ildio ac rwy'n ymosod: rwy'n brathu, rhwygo, crafu; Nid wyf yn gwybod a yw'n gwrthweithio, rwy'n cael fy nallu gan y cynddaredd ac mae'r hylif ffres yn fy swyno ... rwy'n ei fwynhau? Rwy'n symud tuag yn ôl yn ofnus a dim ond wedyn rwy'n gweld fy nghorff dismembered fy hun. Fi yw'r bwystfil!

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Underground Darkness Group ☠

Nolla Marfie  ·

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train's final resting place

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No Smoking

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Darkness Enchanted