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DIANE MOLANDES


@rainamulet


A

s the Sun arches west, the pink-flesh of your peach runs reflected and sweet across your left cheek and,

while cusping it in your right hand, the left is shaded and cooled by the bough of the tree yawning, blooming in mid-June. The birds sing a veiled, violent tune and a cheshire-d loon hangs like the moon from the pink candy-tufted blossoms falling into our curls and feather tresses; her hair, ruffled like the plumes of the alabaster egret, supine in the rolling thrush before us with its marvelous sheen, gilded by the light overhead, is perfect and dead, gathering the light that it can’t use. On the cracked concrete, her voice sounds of raindrops; She speaks stolidly as light exposes our dead-ends:


M

y mind is filled with an infatuation for nothingness,”

she says. “Nothingness, it is consuming and demanding. . . but from it, I’ve seen that there is no harmony and there is never any discord, but only the in-between. That is what breathes,” she mumbles, speaking into her shoulder. “From and around us?” I ask looking towards the void of light. “Yes,” she says,


punctuating her sentence with a bite of her peach. We stand in silence. She obsesses with her fingertips, her worn colored-pencils. The afternoon is full of drawn disembodied, turquoise eyes on her palimpsest sketch paper, looming over her sketched head like the sun is above mine, exposing loose-ends of narratives and discussions about the energy that leaves the vessel’s body that, for my weary mind, continued beyond their desired time. While your mouth stumbles over pain, I grasp a peach hanging from the young tree and let its juice cascade over my face, like blood.


Anna Muradyan @anm_artwork annamuradyan.com

childhood home. Paintings of pomegranates (noor) hung around the kitchen growing up. They are a symbol of fertility & wealth in my Armenian heritage. This is my representation of the typical still life of pomegranates seen in my own fruitful life.

N OOR I I

I chose to abstractly depict my favorite fruit that has grown in my


CACTUS & PE AC H

N OO R I


MARC AMOROSO


ISABEL FISCHER


Madison Kichler


Apricots and forget-me-nots, Peaches at the far reaches of the beaches, Serpentine, nectarines for our teens, Threw the plums a dime in your prime, Ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb! Date night


Erich Scheichl


ANNETTE KELLY


Profile for genau_press

Easily Bruised  

Stone Fruit Zine

Easily Bruised  

Stone Fruit Zine

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