The Letter Obsession_Chamaeleon_Abandoned Spaces_Twenty-one
Catalog Guide:
The Letter Obsession
Rain. Snow. It didn’t matter.Every morning around 8 a.m., Mrs. Keats emerged from her front door, strolled the length of her asphalt driveway, opened her black metal mailbox, and retrieved her mail. Every evening around 7 p.m., Carl noticed she returned to her mailbox and placed at least one letter in her mailbox and put its flag up to signal the postal worker.Over the past ten years that Carl lived next-door, he appreciated her dedication, giving her a wave each time he witnessed this marvel while getting in his car to leave or returning home from his various destinations. When he had realize...
Chamaeleon
It had become a necessity in this modern world, to interact with others. You ended up having a conversation virtually every day, whether it be as impersonal and tedious as a discussion at work, or as intimate as sweet nothings whispered into the ear of your significant other. Or maybe even something in between like a simple chat with a friendly stranger. It didn’t really matter if your conversation partner was physically present, or some unknown distance away and you were communicating solely through the far-reaching power of technology. It was just basically inevitable in the sphere of human ...
Abandoned Spaces
The cool late-autumn air snaps in my face, stinging my eyes, and cracking my lips as I stand in the empty street. Abandoned houses line the edge, in varying degrees of disarray, dilapidation and vandalism. I pull the white cashmere scarf higher, tucking my stinging chin into the soft warmth, then slip my fingers in the pockets of my camel-hair overcoat. Memories come to me: hot summers spent cooling in the neighbor’s yard, wet grass blades clinging to our feet and ankles as we leapt over a solitary sprinkler or chasing the ice cream truck down the street with crumbled dollar bills clenche...
Twenty-www.onedoor.ccone
On the morning of the longest day of the year, a fog swept into the Rhine valley and choked off the morning sunlight. Only hints of the rooftops and dim squares of light across the street from Anna’s kitchen window poked through the dark and it felt like Phaeton had died a second time and the sun was in mourning for his son, leaving it to the incendiaries to light the world again. Anna set aside the Kahlua she’d planned to tip into her coffee and drank it black.She decided to go for a run. Her body, she told herself, would thank her the next morning, when it would, according to plan, be unable...