Why must we only validate the art that stems from suffering?

Hold my hand.
Ponder our futures yet consider our presents.
I love you the way a priest loves his bible.

as i sit in this subway seat, i think that i am in the mood to write.

Fashion is a mirage. I envision it, I see it, I hear it, I can almost reach it when I try.

Erica PhelpsEditor: Alloe Mak Have you ever found yourselfnestled between horizon and sun,thinking: I could sit here for […]

Wine Tasting is a photography collection dedicated to portraying the ridiculous standards women must prevail to attain the male gaze.

Drawing people in real time is always a challenge. Everybody seems to squirm around and never sit still […]

I have this dream. I am lying on the floor of my bedroom, my mind smooth, clear and […]

Chiara, Chloe, & Mel Chloe & Oschi Zane & Scout V & Dallas Rachel & Ollie

He pushed me backwards and turned around. His retreating footsteps were muted by the sound of my fingers rummaging through rocks for one aptly sized for my seven-year-old fist. Before I could think too hard about it, I wound up my arm and threw the rock as hard as I could. 

I missed.

By Elisa Penha I was diagnosed as gifted when I was seven.  Diagnosed. That’s the wording they used—like […]

Celia closed her eyes, anticipating a magnetic moment, a magnificent chemical reaction. The way Lucy described kissing men. It’s not that Celia hadn’t kissed men before -she had kissed quite a few. But she never felt fireworks go off in her gut the way Lucy promised she would feel, so Celia always hoped that the next boy she kissed would be the one. The next boy she kissed would be the one who made her feel like Lucy felt; the kaleidoscopic energy in Lucy’s soft stomach, the involuntary arch of Lucy’s back when she craved more intimacy, and the ticklish trace of Lucy’s fingers along the back of her lover.