. . . at seven o’clock in the evening, the light begins to fade and anguish begins. The light marks the frontier of something new, a border more dangerous than that of noon. This is the time of day when it becomes clear who is happy with life, and who can’t settle into it. At hotels and restaurants the waiters’ shift changes. For photographers it’s the magic hour when one can capture the most beautiful glow. Rohmer watched the green ray appear. Tanizaki set about penning his treatise in praise of shadow. This is the time it Continue reading “at seven o’clock in the evening by Jessica Sequeira”
Celestial Bodies
From the garden we look at the stars. Above us the jewel box spills out its contents, an offering. Everything else is invisible; at this hour the cerros are extinguished, and the electric blue is now black. Standing on the hill our bodies are imperceptible in the dark, our hands unseen as they reach for binoculars, our backs concealed to all but the cool touch of the rock, our necks occult as we peer down the tunnel of the telescope. Continue reading “Celestial Bodies by Jessica Sequeira”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 