The American flags website

  A letter to a park and a new place I think it was some time before it got dark. It was January, so this would have been about 4 o'clock, and I was on one of those walks with its own inertia. Sort of passively following something already in motion. I had taken some Oxycontin and had that great overwhelming feeling of being hugged from inside my skin. The warmth of it spread from my toes up and into my frontal lobe and cast a faint shimmer over the world in front of me. Perhaps it was the hugger inside me that subtly directed my step. I was on a muddy park path lined with naked trees barely illuminated in the winter sunset, and I suddenly became intensely aware of myself. I felt my weight as it distributed itself over each left and right foot, stepping, walking. Acknowledging where my clothes wrapped themselves on my body, where my belt sat on my hips, my jacket on my shoulders and so on. This awareness reached my body hair, my height and other unchanging features of me. It was as ...

  Spar Witch The grocery store marked the end of Dublin’s one block Chinatown. It served as both a late night place to buy drinks and imported snacks and as a playground for the kids living in the estate building complex flanked its side completely.  I only went there to buy cereal, milk and digestives when I couldn’t get it from the supermarket on my way home. Each time I would walk out scowling at the prices I had just indulged. Oddly, I feel sentimental about the place. Thinking about it now it feels like one of those standard dreams turned real, where the most bizarre things happen in the most mundane settings. One night when we were hastily packing our tiny carry-ons for a flight to London, I was craving a digestive so I suggested we take a quick dessert break and go to the grocery store to get something. My apartment at the time felt more like a prison than a room, it was a subterranean lair at best. On an average day in Dublin the greyness of the sky and hence the p...

 https://harry-de-vries.itch.io/dreaming-in-symbiosis

  If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? @benthenpc A person can never truly leave their childhood behind. Gentle friend or grief stricken wound, it accompanies our whole life, often trying to pursue us, usually catching up with us. This path begins on the steep ascent of adolescence and the formation of the adult whereby the person becomes belonging to a group, a community, a place by adopting the right codes, image and uniforms which manifests itself with a desperate eagerness to the ego. Ben Shelley’s debut fashion collection was necromancy at work. Childhood imagination – strangled dead from this codified, mundane and despairing task of appropriating (dressing) ourselves – was revived. The collection consisted of a series of neo-soft toys brought to life in the form of trousers, jackets, shirts and various accessories. Models wore plush headwear and each carried a soft toy while walking, which either characterised or complimented the ...