Elodie shot by Carly Scott, styled by Morgane Nicolas for WAD Magazine online // Hair by Quentin Guyen, Make-up by Laura Casado Arino
"The lake is dead for a second time
this January. And no matter
how many geese lay their warm breasts
against the ice or fly across
its hard chest, it doesn’t break,
or sink, or open up and swallow them.
The ice is frozen water.
There is no metaphor for exile.
Even if these trees continue to shake
the crows from their branches,
my sister is still farther away from her mind
than we are from each other
sitting on opposite ends of a park bench
waiting for evening to swallow us whole.
In the last moments of a depressive, a sun.
In the last moments of a sun, my sister
says a man is chasing a goose through the snow."
nighttime pieces in brooklyn from july
"…after the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor."
T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
"for the fifth time this month
you say you’re going to leave him
he calls you a cunt over the phone
then walks the three miles to your house
and kisses your mouth until the word is just
a place on your body.
i don’t know what brings broken people together
maybe damage seeks out damage
the way stains on a mattress halo into one another
the way stains on a mattress bleed into each other."
Blue- Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Yves Klein
"I’m not used to being loved. I wouldn’t know what to do."
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, More Than Just A House