by Eden Prairie Ward
I am fascinated by the way the presence of light can suggest a complex and mysterious interior realm by merely touching the surfaces of people and things. The photographic still seems to stop time or slow time down, like holding one’s breath
by Ken Kalfus
Czarnecki paces the faded carpet in his hotel suite, relights his pipe and gazes through the thick, leaded window into a tangle of trolley cables wrapped in a gauze of dusk.
by Mahad Zara
To the black shading a shadow’s tone—my father’s. And the black of both his fading footsteps of instruction, and his wild wing strokes of hatred.