THE PAYMENT

  Concrete is no compliment to the current. Curls come and crash without care, you cannot keep an ocean contained in a single cup. ‘I hurl this wave with the weight of a thousand stones’ she sighs and slips back out as clouds come to commend. All words and photographs by Damien B. Donnelly   […]

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BOOKENDS; ALL THE WATER CARRIES OFF WITH IT

  There will always be a part of me standing by the water’s edge, watching how much of us got washed away and wondering how much more sunk so deep below the surface that it is now a captive more to your careful concrete than that ever coldly cutting current.     All words and […]

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BOOKENDS; UNDER PARIS

  Caught is the consciousness in this constant climb, in this city of constrictions and its current that constricts and I can’t catch a breath. And the barricades have broken. Baffled by the beat my feet can’t follow and I am swallowed, sinking in this city of stone swamps and its concrete that compresses and […]

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BOOKENDS; WHEN CONSIDERING WHAT TO WEAR

  I was always looking to find the lighter side, the brighter side of your cold concrete cold corpses once carved into your concerns. You were papered over in such pomp and circumstance, such rigidity and reformation from centuries since removed but I found, once we pealed back each other’s layers that breath lingered behind […]

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COLOUR DANCES LIKE A FLAME OVER CONCRETE

  Colours catch fire over concrete, catch life, catch the laughter that will not linger for as long as this concrete. Measure moments not in length but in weight, weight, don’t wait to catch life; it is cold to be concrete and watch the flames flicker out, to be caressed but never considered consumable. We […]

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GONE, THE GARDEN

  Gone is the garden, we are paved now in parts no longer potential to growth, to goodness. And the crow caws in the corner, flesh festering into feather. Gone is the garden, we have paved paths over all that was precious while thinking thoughtless, if only we’d thought less about what we wanted and […]

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ALL THE REST IS BUT ASH, AFTER

  A crimson blaze, a tiny tree, truth can be fragile, beauty can be breathless (does not always need to be burdened by our breath). Branches can be barren, nature can be hurtful but colour conquers concrete. Fragility can take flight, fields can be an ocean of fallen leaves that time will catch and crispen […]

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IN THE PLACE OF THE FORMER PRINCE

I flew back to a day no longer this day, returning to the rubble I had run from to catch the last slab being laid upon my childhood buried under a concrete garden, not even a root to latch on to. I saw the permanence of the pavement pour over the past no longer possible […]

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