When we drive underneath the bridge, and the buses breaks piss free. Return is to bleak normality. A place I don’t want to be seen. A place with no more coins than kiss. Now my tap has sprung a leak. I haven’t found where the cool kids hang. Yet I see them there, every week? A photographic series by Marc A. Shelly.
It’s too late
Fashion | Exclusive
The light of the North graces this young muse in a fashion exclusive shot in the nature by Ida-Marie Fiskaa with styling by Agnes Buch.
