A list of all the things I want, and of all the things I’ll never be. It’s a panic attack, short-breathed and red faced, in the kitchen. It’s the need for a U-turn on a one-way strip. It’s the feeling of empty—vaguely familiar—in a sweaty nightclub full of people. It’s reaching for one more glass of red, though one too many. It’s your last cigarette… the third time this month. It’s being so alone before a skyline full of excitement and lust. It’s a wrong midnight kiss, wide-eyed, on your seventeenth New Year’s Eve. It’s a collection of what could’ve been, if only you were brave enough to jump. It’s deciphering your emotions mid-January. It’s a cold sweat, one unshakable. It’s the art of disappearing, silently, into the haze of a grey night, mid-July. Words Jordan White Artwork Bianca Pibworth
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