Haze

MAR 2023

When we were light By:Lauren Gargarella after Chiyuma Elliott We were eager to see everything.

We found ourselves bending around corners.

The leaves— we dove through them like tide pools.

You said release me, and bent yourself into dark corners, you closed yourself in.

What I felt was cold.

You tried to come back, but walls are unforgiving.

When you finally disappeared, I remembered how I breathed your light, that I lived to breathe it.

I watched the final leaves settle on the dusty floor of our bedroom.

Let me remember you: We danced. Over seasons.

We fed the greenery, we grew. We dissipated.

Haze’nt left me yet By:Alisha Arevalo, @amalisha

MAR 2023

35mm film on Olympus Infinity AF-1

MAR 2023

Excerpts from

The Big Picture:

Slowlife d pe ip fl

By:Ben Frederick

In 2016, an innocuous cycling crash my world upside down. From chasing the Pro Dream to trapped in a broken brain, in a dark room. The #slowlife was an attempt to capture my experience and existence with a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI). Living in the Haze.

After a 2 year intensive recovery process, I was able to enter the world again as a human, not a Bike Racer. Fast forward a few more years, and I’ve been able to race at the top level of bikes, but that’s not where the finish line of the story is. It was being able to go out into the world without being in a Haze.

TBI Life: Part 3 #slowlife

MAR 2023

5 weeks of darkness The light too blinding Movement exhausting Nauseous Weak Fog. Confusion.

Alone.

Trapped in a broken brain.

Don’t do anything, Except nothing Thoughts spiral out of control But “don’t think” Lay there No distractions No screens No music No reading No movement No one Nothing

TBI Life: Final Installment #slowlife Pain Rage Sorrow Agony Loss Grasping my jersey Torn between embracing and ripping it apart.

Dreams and goals condensed and made tangible into a Fabric dyed and colored by sacrifice, sweat, blood, Cut to fit the body etched by hours of suffering, work, joy, happiness, peace, flying, challenge, perseverance and Pain.

My heart, soul, passion on my sleeve.

The skin underneath, left pale and colorless without it.

Fingers snap!

A dream gone, The dreamer, broken Trapped by the dark No escape, outlet, relief.

Stuck.

Grounded.

No more flying. Not now, Maybe not ever.

MAR 2023

smoke signals By:Alannah Clark on the drive home I saw smoke but it was just the trees, empty branches outstretched toward empty clouds. in search of fire I remember you but can’t picture your face. hadn’t I looked for it in every stranger and crowd like a lighthouse in the fog? your flame escapes me. driving past, the trees blur into the horizon behind us.

MAR 2023

By: Jake de la Cruz

Off the 99

By:Matt Marcure // @rainamulet Matt Marcure is a writer based in Sacramento, Ca.

I kick off my shoes to Pick up the dirt And lay in the shadows Sparing, blue-black And appeasing Breathing A vineyard in the sun The cars roll and roar Shear lines Of all metallic color Hovering, deriding The glassy oil-soaked road The heavy exhaust Swimming upwards, Cloud-like and dreaming A hushed exultation Of the valley horizon The water gleaming, Burdened leaves The small plane humming, Hiccuped fog I lean up to look out: The stretching, collapsing Bending field in gaseous ripples That rise to paint the hills I move my bare feet Toward the shade I breathe as it breathes, The dust falling

MAR 2023

By:Bennett Smith

A quiet voice, mostly dancing By:Rhea Aldridge @rhea_aldridge 35mm film

MAR 2023

MAR 2023

MACHINE BY: Ethan Wittenberg

MAR 2023

MAR 2023

Late Hazin By:Diane Molandes Acrylic Paint on Canvas ft Film & Digital Photography

The haze is slowing me down but please don’t leave me behind, there are still days to remember.

MAR 2023

By:LP Watercolor & pen

taking space By:Maribeth Helen of all the voices, and there are many — i pause a moment in your haze the dust settles and clearly, clearly i hear myself at first so softly, the rain hitting the window beats in rhythm with my longing heart, and then a bit louder i know what to do with my body let it sink into the nook let it love the space between

MAR 2023

where we lose sight of the moon but feel it guiding us home

Hazels Journey

by Rebecca Ann Woodberry Miller There was a tired girl on the way back to the car fort.

All day the older women had yelled at her, do this, do that, and you did that wrong.

She’d spent all day imagining hanging her car forts curtains.

She had thought about library books that were 3 months overdue, and how she couldn’t pay the fine yet.

She added yet another favorite beverage to the imaginary shopping list, sure that citrus tea would be there after her shift.

She drifted into her interior design ideas when her coworker yelled at her. Hazel had mentally hung dreamcatchers and snapshots of the California coast all day.

But now, she would actually do it. As she walked to the parking lot, a toolbox in hand she breathed all her knowing out And all her knowing looked like that. just a couple breaths, transparent. No one could quite find the words for it.

Understanding Berries

by Rebecca Ann Woodberry Miller On top of the cold white snow three bright red berries stood out.

Like rubies, so precious and out of place.

Henry was walking by. It was impossible not to notice them. He picked them up and put them in his pocket.

Later over at Hazels’ place he brought them out. Threw them down next to the bread on her counter. She talked about her stressful day at work, her angry coworkers. He kissed her forehead.

They ate dinner. He was happy to contribute. Assured that she had so much bread food and milk. His kind love who saved and gathered.

The red berries were a small contribution. They ate them after dinner for dessert in the nearby plaza.

Henry popped the berries into his mouth, and in an instant a vivid red haze appeared in fornt of his eyes, he twitched.

A red haze began to appear around the women in the plaz. Bright like the berries.

It whispered and bounced.

It was alive.

Moving like smoke.

MAR 2023

Women’s figures became apparent, their size and height and dress.

The red smoke outlined their beauty. Lines and shapes, age and weight.

It swirled like a dancer, showing off from every angle.

their perfection

Hazel, sadly nodded, bursting out in tears. She didn’t need the berries to see what Henry observed. it was always apparent to her. Each figure challenged Hazels own beauty, winning.

Her tears fell, pinkish in the red fog Henry wiped the tears away. He looked at her, with a understanding of something he hadn’t before. Tears on his fingers.

Feeling her sadness as his, seeing her demons. His chest was sore.

The little berries wore off, as he embraced Hazel, empathy a sad aftertaste.

MAR 2023