The dog days are over. Running around, running away, running from running. All day in a heat wave, we'll read poetry to the stars in a field of grassy green, night as a vice and soil as sheets. Dazed by the moon, forgetting our dried up hearts and swollen eyes. Find a new love, if just for now. Chasing colours in our fears. Sinking bubbles in our drinks. Going to the woods just to be feral, and pretending we’re characters in a film. We'll make new sins like it's craft, and the center star will burn our skin. Staining our whites with stalky blades, our selfish secrets to be kept in the haze. The last day of summer.
ph. Ryan McGinley
- The Velvet Scientist