thetransit:(via mrgolightly)

kelly surdo, dying angels
this was a writing piece i made on the floor of the computer lab at school during after hours. i had been adamantly emotionally unavailable for a dangerous amount of time. it was a moment when something had cracked inside my chest and i felt something warm inside of myself for the first time in forever. i was beginning to let others in again in a way that wasn’t explicitly destructive. i jotted the phrase down as an iphone note, packed my things and walked quickly back to my apartment. the print itself i made at parsons, ronika was allowing us to make prints of some of our work in hopes that a physical form of these pieces that lived solely on the internet would protect me from my demons at bay, at least that was the idea. i think it worked because i still carry them. the piece of silk was the only present i received for my birthday this year, a gift from a good friend who said the texture felt important and reminded me of them. it’s all that mattered. together they make something much greater than me.  

If you need me I’ll be in the bath watching lava on my television

At the Sex Museum in Korea

Hey look a seahorse

#1/2 by me