Collective Journal

The past is addictive when the present is in anguish. The future is pasted in the rearview of our minds. We’re aware but the hope for...

Her flower curls up into hibernation. She’s always asleep; She’s never the blossoming garden I wish her to be...

She finds a cardboard box in her cobweb covered basement next to the dusty plastic Easter eggs and the toy drum filled with white...

There are moments in my life where I believe the stars align and that life has so much love and adventure to explore. Where I point to...

Everyday I wake up at ten in the morning. I watch some videos on the internet and daydream about being someone else, somewhere else...