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WONDERS SEP SEP 2020 2020

ISSUE ISSUE 03 03

LOVE


Wonders Zine @wonderzine

Cover Credit: Leigh McTeer, 18, USA @leighmcteer (model: @piper.hansen_)


EDITOR’S NOTE

Welcome to Issue 03: Love! First off, I am delighted to admit that putting together this issue was an absolute pleasure. Seeing so many submissions with people’s different interpretations on their perception of love was both eye-opening, yet humbling. We make ourselves so vulnerable when we are in love, and to see people translate such complex ideas into intimate works of art was truly a wonder itself to behold. In choosing this theme, I was very careful to not restrict ‘love’ to only encompass the romantic sense. Love can come in many forms: with friends, family, and even yourself. I therefore referred to the Seven Types of Greek Love when announcing the theme. Katerina Ali, 23, UK @katerxna_ Seven Types of Greek Love eros - passionate love ludus - playful love philautia - self-love mania - obsessive love pragma - committed love storge - family love philia - friendship love agape - compassionate love

Although we received many incredible submissions for this issue, it was very difficult to shortlist the ones that made the final cut. Therefore, the features you shall see in this Issue have been carefully selected to ultimately portray each and every one of these types of love. Furthermore, since this is our third Issue, we would like to thank readers and artists for supporting Wonders! Running this zine is a dream, and to do something that you love so much is so incredible. Thank you!


CREDIT • ARTISTS

In order of appearance:

Leigh McTeer Hannah Johnson Jessica Wang Madison Mikhail Sélina Farzaei Karina Samuel Shira Zur Brooke Olson Ana Garro Gabrielle Galchen Rosie Tonkin William Keith Connelly Mya Carter Alexa Arrant Katherine Hillier

Daisy Friedman Kennan Pham Eileen Sadati Martina Sánchez Griffin H.M. Consumption Media Daria McKay Anoushka Lily Bhow Miri Ossanna Grace Rodrigue Sylvie Lam Emily Wu Sofia Aviles Nur Güzeldere Chaya Feinberg Sophie Somers Danae Younge

Thank you for your talent; this issue would not exist without you.





ISSUE 03


Hannah Johnson, 16, USA @hkjohnsonphotos

“The key to capturing a good photo is finding the love. to make your model feel at ease and being out their self-love. To capture the love between two friends, the bonds that connect them. It’s capturing the love between us and our world!”


Heartbreak - A Piece To My Youth Jessica Wang, 16, USA There once was a time when the top of my head could not yet reach father’s thigh and my pudgy hands were no bigger than those sour tangerines mother used to buy from the local market. Still I didn’t let any of that stop me from falling in love.

She was beautiful, with pale delicate hands and rich red lips that highlighted the soft curve of her porcelain nose. Her hair was made out of plain yellow glass, but she still managed to uphold the posture of an elegant lady with high status. Even the sun itself hid jealously behind the clouds. Her brilliance was so magnificent that she had her own pedestal complete with a cherry silk umbrella to keep the pesky rain drops away. On the bottom shelf all the toys were sullen and dull knowing that they could never match up to her beauty. Every day I passed her on the sidewalk to kindergarten, and would feel the familiar rush of awe and excitement cascading through my body like tiny jolts of lightning. I would always press my nose flat against the store’s glass and rub off the dirt and dust just to catch a better glimpse of my lover. Those who walked by gave me funny looks, but could not possibly understand the constant yearning in my chest. My poor heart was ill, and the only cure was to hold my lover’s hand in mine. Once I even gathered the courage to try to win my doll over. I stood two feet shorter under the store counter and tried my best to woo my love with a few meagre pennies. Copper pennies picked up from the sidewalk, however, could not buy the high price of love, and I was shunned like a dirty vagabond. But I was willing to pay the heavy price with

tedious chores and selling overpriced sugary lemonade. I used a glass jar to collect my meagre earnings and stored the precious jar behind mutilated Barbie limbs and a dollar store yo-yo. At night I dreamed of what a collection she would add to my Beanie Babies and how I would treat her like a coveted princess and offer her pretend tea over plastic frosted cookies. The magic we would create together would be more perfect than an ending of a fairy tale.

But I was willing to pay the heavy price with tedious chores and selling overpriced sugary lemonade. I used a glass jar to collect my meagre earnings and stored the precious jar behind mutilated Barbie limbs and a dollar store yo-yo. At night I dreamed of what a collection she would add to my Beanie Babies and how I would treat her like a coveted princess and offer her pretend tea over plastic frosted cookies. The magic we would create together would be more perfect than an ending of a fairy tale. My father chipped in by paying me five dollars for every centimetre I grew and my mother gave me a couple silver quarters for every bag of tangerines I carried in. Finally the glass jar was full. I walked up to the counter feeling like a handsome suitor from a faraway kingdom as I looked at the store keeper. Clutching my savings to my chest. With just the simple swap of lemonade earnings and a couple of stacks of quarters, my heart no longer bled. I ran home that day, my doll clutched to my chest, speeding past pedestrians wearing their simple red raincoats that paled in comparison to the gold sheen of her dress. But as I set her down on my tea chair, nothing happened. I searched for the pulse of magic and the sweet happiness but came up with handfuls of disappointment and regret. She was so small on the chair. My lover was no longer the proud goddess I once knew but a raggedy peasant. Her small, delicate fingers could not possibly fit in mine. I had simply gotten too big.


Madison Mikhail, 15, USA @madison.mikhail


“Love can come in many forms I a ssociate it to moments, people, items. Here I share selfportraits to portray self-love and acceptance. Inner peace. Warm tones accompany warm feelings.”

Sélina Farzaei, 18, Canada @wackography


Fish Bowl Karina Samuel, 16, USA @karinasamuel_

 

Both observing from a distance, two fishes swim in parted bowls For to push the glass anymore than an observation, risks tipping the bowl itself, cracking its virtue, and leaving both gasping for what once was Remaining isolated on the side of the table, both sides looking better than their own because of the others’ presence A true game of cat and mouse, despite the outcome most jointly sought after Two fishes, unknowing of the ocean that lay aside them Perhaps this ignorance is what fuels their love of the other, basking in the thought they are among the only to feel this way For to know their ignorance may poison the clarity of the water of impunity they thrive in And in this spirit, this may be, why they are so quick to forget


Red Juice Shira Zur, 17, USA @shirazurr

“If you keep swallowing watermelon seeds, one day a watermelon will grow inside your stomach.” Her mother’s voice was stern and followed by

an urging frown, her dark eyebrows arched downwards and over her eyes, her forehead covered with wrinkles. The girl was only five then, and her small hands could barely hold up the heavy watermelon slice, red juice seeping out of the fruit and dripping down her hands and onto the blanket. The beach was crowded but they had their own little spot near the rocks, far enough from the splash of the waves but close enough to hear them crashing again and again against the yellow sand. And, if the girl closed her eyes tight enough and all the noises of the seagulls flying and the waves crashing and the people talking faded away, she could truly feel it; a black seed burying itself deep down her stomach; a seedling emerging, lifting its head up slowly; the plump green ball growing bigger and bigger inside her stomach until one day, when it became the oval fruit she knew and loved. She opened her eyes and smiled, taking another bite off the slice in her hand. The red juice continued dripping down her hands. She continued swallowing watermelon seeds. “If you go out in the cold with wet hair, you’ll get a fever.” Her mother had already walked past the bathroom and into the kitchen when the girl looked up, her soaking hair tied in a messy knot, little droplets streaming out, soaking the mat on the bathroom floor. The steam from the shower fogged the mirror and the girl had been using her finger to trace circles into the fog when her mother had walked past. The girl looked up to her right. Outside the bathroom window, she could see the gray skies outside, the rain falling down and creating puddles in their muddy grass. And, if the girl closed her eyes tight enough and let the steam from the shower engulf her, she could really imagine it; her going outside, her hair still dripping, working side by side with the rain; her legs shaking with every step, icy chills

shaking her whole body; her coming back home, her nose red and aching; and finally, her huddled underneath layers of blankets, a mountain of used tissues growing larger next to her bed, the hot thermometer resting defeated on her bedside table. She opened her eyes and turned out of the bathroom, rushing down the hallway to get ready. Her mother did not see her drenched hair as she slipped out of the house. “If you keep making that face, it will be stuck like that forever.” The girl was standing by the door, waiting for the others to get ready, and decided to make silly faces in the mirror. She was not sure why she was making silly faces; maybe it was pure boredom, or maybe she was trying to tie down one more thing from her childhood before she completely let it loose. Her mother stared at her through the mirror, and although her posture was still straight and her face still tight, a soft grin formed on her face, and then vanished as quickly as it came. And, if the girl closed her eyes tight enough and ignored her mother’s exhausted sighs, ignored the clock ticking away on the wall, ignored the spiral circling faster and faster inside her head, she could really picture it; her making the ridiculous face in the mirror one day; her eyes crossing over, looking down at the tip of her nose as everything else became a gray blur; her friends laughing until it wasn’t so funny anymore, an alarming panic starting to arise within her; and finally, her giving up, realizing that her face was going to remain cross-eyed forever. She quit making the face and looked at her mother in the mirror. She concentrated on every detail; her thin nose, her large brown eyes, her ruffled eyebrows, her long, thick hair, just like the girl’s. She continued looking until her eyes hurt and every feature on her mother’s face overlapped and meshed together, forming one blurry image that did not look like her mother at all. Then, she blinked, refocusing her vision, and stared down at the tip of her nose, making a cross-eyed face, sticking out her tongue and giggling to herself.


One day, the girl was finally living alone, and she got to soak in the world with a fresh

opinion, no mother around to restrict her outlook. She began looking for the little details, 
 an insatiable mission, as there were infinite little details at every situation and. And, once she began looking for these details, she also began noticing things. She noticed that when people swallow watermelon seeds, they might get a stomachache, but the fruit does not grow inside their stomachs. She noticed that when people go out with wet hair in the cold breeze, they might feel a little chilly, shocked by the contrast from the hot shower, but they do not catch a cold. And, she noticed that when people make silly faces and their eyeballs move over to the side of their eyes and their red tongue sticks out, they might look a little stupid, but their faces do not stay like that forever. Her mother had lied.

Brooke Olson, 17, USA @brookeolsonphotography

The girl was not a girl anymore, and as she sat next to her daughter on the beach, she looked out at the waves and breathed in the salty air and thought to herself. Her daughter sat on the beach towel, drawing circles in the sand, and her blabbers and giggles intruded the girl’s thoughts. The girl sighed, smiling at her little creation, and turned to her bag, pulling out the bowl of watermelon slices she had cut that morning. She ripped off the saran wrap and handed her daughter a slice, her little baby hands still covered with sand. Her daughter let out another giggle, bent down, and took a large, messy bite out of the fruit, red juice dripping down her mouth and onto her chin. As the girl watched the droplets dribbling down her daughter’s chin, a panic erupted inside of her and the words formed themselves and traveled rapidly up her throat and before she could stop herself she opened her mouth and said: “If you keep swallowing watermelon seeds, one day a watermelon will grow inside your stomach.”


Ana Garro, 16, USA @ana.estheticc “These are moments that last seconds, but it’s the feeling that lasts, and these photographs capture that moment in which one realizes what love is; when lust becomes love and seconds become infinite.�


No Seasons for Me Gabrielle Galchen, 17, USA @littlespontaneities I will love you winterlong our eye’s snowflakes reflect winds to the same lullaby (I spoke in pine needles until I met you) I will love you all through spring you are my overcoat for tears life’s rains heave (I used to drift between souls like pollen) I will love you until summer flies I’ll sculpt you the sunset before it burns (we’ll draw our names in the sand ’til we’re cemented within time) I will love you in every fall when your hair grays and words drone (yellowed firefly, our youth will twitch roguishly) And even if you leave me, my love won’t change: no dove can peck a rotting rose (alas, I am no magician; I lay swordless, with sanity amiss)


Rosie Tonkin, 16, UK @rosietonkinphotos


“The title, ‘averted’, is because of the lack of eye contact between the couple. The models are in a relationship, and their eyes are ‘averted’, distracted by other surroundings, yet the focal point of the images is the connection. It represents how constant full attention on either partner does not equate love.”


Sex Isn’t A Performance

Keith Connelly, 16, USA @itsjustkeith1

Tim Wadsworth, an associate professor of sociology at the University of Colorado B o u l d e r, s t a te d t h e f o l l o w i n g i n h i s conclusions of a study; “Having more sex makes us happy, but thinking that we’re having more sex than other people makes us even happier… it becomes an aspect of one’s identity that can be compared with the people around them. When the result of the comparison is positive, it increases happiness; when it’s negative it decreases it.” We’ve all seen it; the box of sketchy “man pills” from your local deli that promise to “strengthen your endurance, power, and performance”; the guy who constantly brags about how he fucks everyday for hours on end; the porn that shows men and women with perfect bodies, making sure to signify their pleasure at every second. It seems we’ve developed a culture that is set on only one way of having sex, the ideal way. But I think sex is a lot more of a broad concept than that. Let’s take a step back and realize how harmful the constant projection of ““ideal”” sex in our media really is. People expect to fuck for hours ever yday, give and gain multiple orgasms during one session, and have genitals that look exactly the same as every other porn actor. But… sex isn’t porn. The two are wildly different. Nobody should go into their first time expecting porn. Sadly, most people who grew up watching porn will expect just that, just for them to come in a few minutes, and perhaps to not even really feel anything at all. It leaves people feeling disappointed. Not only this, but the these unrealistic standards lead to sexual performance anxiety- where one fears they don’t satisfy their partner or “perform” well in bed, so much so that the anxiety triumphs any arousal and it becomes distracting, and sometimes even all you could think about, a n d w o n’t b e a b l e t o r e a c h o r g a s m themselves. A study from University of

Michigan Medical School placed performance anxiety as one of the main psychological factors linked to ED. A man’s ability to perform is tied to his sense of masculinity, and all of this leads to a massive amount of insecurity concerning not only body image, but how well we do things the “right” way in bed- and god forbid a rumor spread about that. Paula Hall, a therapist who specializes in sex and porn addiction, stated that “Guys who are in a partnered relationship often feel they cannot give their partner pleasure, which is not the case.” In this culture, sex is a competition. Who can last longer? Who has the more attractive body? Who’s better at being a pornstar? Partners, despite being partners, operate on their own, without a concern for their other. Your partner doesn’t get a say, because you should know how to fuck the right way already. Words don’t need to be exchanged if they don’t imply anything but pleasure. And it has to be the same cookiecutter way every time, because straying from that is too risky. I think the way we view sex has a lot of room for improvement. It starts with realizing that there is no correct way to have sex. Sex is different to every person, and different people find different things pleasurable. There are different ways to define sex, there are different ways to enjoy sex. Sex is not linear, there is no grading system where you get judged on how well you did relative to the perfect example. There is no textbook with all the rules, all the do’s and don'ts laid out in a clear cut manner. That’s why “ideal” sex doesn’t exist- sex is different to everyone. It’s never about “what most people like.” There is no perfect way to have sex, sex is a spectrum, and everyone falls somewhere in-between romantic gestures to full-on penetration. That’s why communication is key- talk to your partner so you know their definition of sex, and so you get to explore it with them. Let them know what you want, and listen to what they want. Slow it down, speed it up, a little off, move this here.


Because it’s okay to make mistakes, it’s okay to fuck up. What matters is that your

partner lets you know, and that you have an understanding for each other.

This tweet confused me when I saw it, because... why would she let this happen? She knew she wasn’t being satisfied, and she had the ability to simply tell him, and help him, but she made the choice not to. I feel as if she was thinking more about how cool it would be to make fun of him for it years down the road, as opposed to any preexisting goals of actually enjoying their time together. I’m not saying to settle for mediocrity, or to just accept it when you’re not pleased in bed. In fact, I’m saying the polar opposite. Take action, let your partner know. Communicate and work it out together. It’s not a big deal, it never is. There’s nothing wrong with fucking up now and then, so help them, so they could help you. When you have the ability to let them know when you’re not pleased, there’s nothing stopping you from having fun together. When you have sex is when you’re most vulnerable. This person chose you, not anyone else, to be vulnerable in front of you, because they love you for you, imperfections and all. Societal expectations about what your body should look like, or how well you

should perform, shouldn’t matter. That’s where you should forget about any preexisting expectations, any standards you picked up on, any past experiences. That’s when it’s nothing but you, your partner, and the moment. It’s that rush of adrenaline you feel when you have them with you. That’s when you feed into any impulses or desires you may have. Something slips up? Who cares?! let out a laugh, be vulnerable together. There’s nothing you should have to hide, there’s no laughter you should hold in in order to keep things serious. Let each other know how you feel, physically as well as mentally. Just have fun. Because that’s what sex is supposed to be- fun. It’s when you share happiness with another person, enjoy each other’s company, play with each other. Sex isn’t a performance- performances are performer and audience. Sex has neither a performer nor an audience. There’s no anxiousness, no stage fright of any kind. There’s no critics, there’s no number of tickets to sell. It’s just two people, sharing the work, sharing the joy, having nothing but a fun time.


“My models live across the country from each other, and when they come together, we do a photoshoot to rekindle their connection before they both have to go back home and return to their normal lives until next time, which is why the work is called ‘lovers for a day’."

Mya Carter, 20, USA @myahoneyy


Alexa Arrant, 21, USA @alexaarrant

“one of my favorite places to be is in the passenger seat of a car next to my best friend. i’m in love with the thrill of driving anywhere together. the destination doesn’t matter because i know we’ll make it worthwhile.”


“I made these to explore and play with the visual tropes and themes around romance in its commercial form. I also wanted to base them on my own experience of love and sex.�

Katherine Hillier, 26, UK @katherinehillierart


Jazz Age Love Daisy Friedman, 17, USA @daisyjfriedman

I want to be loved like the 1920’s. I want to be loved like flourishing flapper dresses, gleaming, scarlet lips, and finger waves. I want to be loved like moving picture magic Hold me in your arms like I’m Louise Brooks, Just like in silent films… We don’t need words to form passion, just you and me inside your Model T. I want to be loved like underground speakeasies. Drink me in like I’m an Old Fashioned. Like concealed flasks filled to fuel the night’s adventures. We’ll hide our desires under our tweed coats just like the bootleggers. I want to be the Daisy to your Gatsby. Look at me with anxious eyes, Fall deeper in love every minute. Let me be your guiding green light. I want to be loved like Jazz music. Sing to me sweetly the words of Louis Armstrong, Because in your arms I think to myself, What a wonderful world. Let life be an intoxicating dance party As we foxtrot in time. I want to be loved like Wall Street Make me an ignorant fool, teach me to forget how to behave with our newfangled freedom. And when it all comes crashing down, We’ll still have our memories. Preserve me in sepia tones, and paint me with the glaze of an archaic era, In a silk Charleston negligee. And I want to be loved like the 1920’s. Never want to stop the party, Never want to slow the pace.


“Love doesn’t mean to fully love a person. It could also mean loving things to have, see, hear, like nature, and the sound of the breezing air.”

Kennan Pham, 17, USA @casualportraits


 

My Muse Eileen Sadati, 15, USA @eileensadati

The type of person that comes from a dream: Shining veil of thought, with glee around her edges the sun exists so her perfection is seen and the lines of our Earth bend ‘round her truthful pledges. Her eyes spread kindness, writing out a legacy, spitting out goodness like a river churns water, running towards goodness like destiny. Her skin tastes like honey and aura is clay, Coolest to touch, yet warmest to hold. She walks on the sunshine that welcomes the dawn and her voice welcomes summer and cheers on the fall. Her presence holds like sweetness like sugar in her palm, and the hurricane of life can be beat by her calm. But alas my muse can still hold her doubts When she questions her worth, her beauties I count


Martina Sánchez, 19, Spain @mrtna.photo “Friendship: holding and being there for each other no matter what.”


Wo n d e r s h a d t h e a m a z i n g opportunity of chatting to griffin; an alternative singer and songwriter from Texas, USA. With his new debut album 'Schiele' recently released, it was a delight to chat to griffin about his music, his musical background, and life-long

inspirations WZ: Hi Griffin - what a delight to finally chat to you! So, let’s kick things off: What inspired you into singing and songwriting? G: Songwriting has been a pastime of mine since my days in Kindergarten. In fact, upon coming home from school after a long day of pretending to be Goku or starting Soul Calibur inspired fights on the playground, I would fill sheets upon sheets of blank printer paper with lyrics which must have looked like hieroglyphics in retrospect at about the age of five. These lyrics were i n te n d e d f o r u s e to w a r d s m y imaginary band, 'Burning Flowers’. Fast forward to the age of 14 or so

was when I truly took an interest in producing music. My nights in High School typically consisted of making electronic/hip-hop inspired instrumentals until my eyelids would become heavy like a yawn. I’ve never aligned myself with the title of a singer. I just got to a point where I'd write lyrics & then go, “Oh, well, somebody's gotta sing these words.” I don’t have too much of an

impressive vocal range, but I think I'm making it work haha. WZ: Nice to see music has always been in your life! How would you describe your

music style in 3 words? G: For this project, I would lean towards descriptors such as “Warm, Vulnerable, and

Introspective”. WZ: Sounds very cosy - Who are your biggest influences? G: The Radio Dept., Dijon, Lontalius, Sufjan Stevens, and Matt Maltese!

griffin h.m., 22, USA @corneriaflights

WZ: All very great people! Okay, let;’s discuss your new album: what inspired ‘Schiele’? G: The majority of these songs on here are songs I’d had saved for years. There’s a few demos scattered around my laptop dating back to 2016. I knew I wanted to keep these for an official release because the content of the songwriting was important to me, and I felt proud of the work. In recording, the first song to set the tone for the album was actually the closer, Arid which means to be barren, like a desert, though the word can also be used to describe a lack of feeling and or meaning. With this song, I used only my guitar and my voice. No synths, bells, pads, drums, etc. Once this short track was complete in it’s recording, I knew that I wanted the rest of the album to remain minimal and organic in terms of instrumentation. I wanted to achieve a whole sound, and a warm one at that.


WZ: We’re so glad you’ve finally released it! What’s the meaning behind the album name itself ? 


G: The album is indirectly titled after the name of Austrian painter Egon Schiele. Schiele Avenue is a street in San Jose, CA which holds the first home my family and I lived in together. It is a nod back to beginnings. WZ: Makes sense! What’s your favourite song(s) on the album, and why? G: My personal favorite song from the album would be “Coalesced”. This was my first attempt at writing from another's point of view. My family lost somebody dear to us this year, my late aunt. Heavily inspired by a beautiful and heartfelt speech given by my mother at her sister's burial, the song is written from the perspective of my mother, reflecting on growing up beside her sister. Rest in Peace Aunt Sherry, we love you every day.

G: I’ve been playing around with sounds and patterns new to me. I’m trying to achieve somewhat of an experimental pop sound with the files saved on my hard drive currently. Aside from music, I'll be drowning in assignments upon my next semester coming up while I simultaneously work on a small literary project. WZ: How exciting - best of luck! Okay, and lastly: Anything else you’d like to say? G: I’d like to send my gratitude to the both of my brothers for taking the time to really listen in depth to these songs as their production came along. Your thoughts and encouragement drove me further than y’all know. Also, thank you to my girl, Lysse Jane, for supporting me even when I'm throwing a mini fit about a guitar track being off by a millisecond. You rule. And finally, thank you to all four of the perfectly chaotic boys I live with and for turning the tv volume down when i’m recording.

WZ: Our condolences, Griffin. Our theme for the next issue is love - what does ‘love’ mean to you? G: Love is the collection of sharpie cartoons drawn on brown paper lunch sacks each morning by my father and brother. Love is where your cheeks hurt from smiling. The other day, I woke up from a dream in which I was in a Wendy’s drivethru and I woke up just as the food was being passed towards my car window. I told my girlfriend about it and she drove me to a Wendy’s drive-thru. I think that’s what love is. WZ: Beautiful answer! Love can mean so many different things to different people. Okay, we’re nearing the end: of our interview! What’s next for you? Any other projects coming up?

Available on Spotify, Apple Music, Bandcamp, SoundCloud, and YouTube!


Consumption Media, 19 & 21, USA @consumption.m Exit Ophelia “We took inspiration from the shakespearean tragedy, hamlet, and the depiction of brokenheartedness. Ophelia dies offscreen; the audience mourns her, but they don’t see her die... not her gasping mouth, not her plunge into the waters. We want to see ophelia die in technicolor. we want her struggle centre screen, we want her to come back from the dead and narrate her own funeral.”


Natural Thing Daria McKay, 20, Russia @daria.e.mckay I’ve seen two grown sparrows / feeding each other / it’s been so heartwarming / so soul-stirring / to look at / love generously soaked the air / and I was wrapped in the softness of care / heart filled with loyalty and love / and then / I was surprised to learn / the birds were / a couple / feeding each other / offering piece by piece / to please / the partner / and then / I decided / I want to be like them / I want my relationship to be like this / I want sharing to be a natural thing.





Anoushka Lily Bhow, 16, USA @anoushka_lily


Ghost Writer Sofia Aviles, 16, USA @avilesarts

My biggest trigger is unanswered questions but you might just be an exception. Slip in your W’s. Let’s give the unknown a world view because, What if we let each other know where our state of mind is? Or what if we let go and become mindless? What if secrets were never in private? Or what if my mind is an island and you’re stranded inside it? What if happiness became a virus? What if we never get pain inside us? And what if love could be caught? So many Q’s but I’d love to answer them with you.

“A modern story about new love told in poetry. So many questions and daydreams pop into our heads when we fall for someone.”


Sofia Aviles, 16, USA @avilesarts “Philautia is the type of love that ties in with these photos. All of these pictures hide the faces, or parts of the face. Faces are ways people identify one another, so all of these follow a concept of identity.”






Sophie Somers, 23, UK @stuff_sophie_shoots Amber Love “The gentle glow of Sunday morning in bed, you are my amber love”


If Only They Were Danae Younge, 18, USA @danae_celeste_

He cradles my arms in his half-sleep like pillow-wrapped dreams, cocoons the couch-sprawled limbs and says, my leg, my arm, My belly is nuzzled and his lips press like warm rocks on the scars until they’ve rusted into melanin and I’ve forgotten where I put them in the first place. And he says, my belly, like the spoonfuls lifted to my mouth are funneling in between his barbed ribs, the tylenol bottle kept by my bedside diffusing through him, silencing the garage door that’s echoed ever since November when he belted his head into the wall, and muscles are rising warmth under airy sheets, the boa constrictor that he slept with in the backseat of his car that he chose over space gnawing black holes into the dark, plotting with the household furnishings unfurling and wriggling out the windowsill’s moon. A psychiatrist is the only doctor he agrees to see. says the others have more important things to do. Seedling stems in the garden appear as strong sticks pillaring the blossoms when the soil wreaks of decay, churning with carcass scraps that were already gone. He distributes time and ease like ripe peaches but if the two hands beneath me were my hands as he speaks of them, they’d be dripping plump by now and he’d be extending his tongue’s weight, rotating the wrists he calls mud hooks to lick his fingers instead of tapping frayed nails on empty jars and peeling away his mind and body to shed like snakeskin, trying to become the only thing he loves.


enjoy the wonders of art

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Wonders Issue 03: Love  

Welcome to Issue 03 of Wonders Zine! This theme is based on 'love'! In choosing this theme, I was very careful to not restrict ‘love’ to onl...

Wonders Issue 03: Love  

Welcome to Issue 03 of Wonders Zine! This theme is based on 'love'! In choosing this theme, I was very careful to not restrict ‘love’ to onl...

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