I want to capture the “ghosts” that inhabit this area and intertwine them with contemporary images.
The joy of sharing the fruits of our garden with my family in our wild and teeming summertime yard. Listening to music and talking, and feeling grateful for all of it.
All night long they clung to each other, bobbing on a sea of whisky and memories and dreams, lashed to a floating spar that sank and rose and sank and rose again.
A collection of all the articles we’ve published over the past month, for those who like to savor their Magpies’ tidings as an issue.
Creation as an act of remembering and remembering as an act of creation is the unofficial theme of our August issue.
“Maybe this meant something, maybe it didn’t.”
“I know that part of my attraction to a lone old car on some quiet urban street or sitting out in the desert is because it plays into a fantasy of a time after the car.”
But this magical madeleine and tea, which he accepts while full of adult cares and woes, brings him such joy that he no longer feels mediocre, accidental, mortal, which is what being an adult feels like, on a bad day.
We quickly find ourselves in hypnagogic territory, sorting real, unreal, and surreal at the edges of a dream.
The dowry becomes a cathartic process of mourning, remembrance and consolation.