THE CULT COLLECTIVE

"I sneak up on death like halving a pomegranate, wounding round him and into the white first. ↺ (round) ↑ (up), ↺↑: d"

"Nobody can predict us — not the weather forecast, nor the space agency..."

"With nowhere to take shelter, she carries her light to the melody of the mountain and the setting sun."

A day at the end of June in the sun-soaked Russian countryside.

The Berlin-based artist sat down with Doireann Ní Dhufaigh to talk about her lush and hazy first album.

"Smokeblue, your eyes pearl over – silken sculpture, lips sewn / Shut. Unheard confessions stain that train."

"Inside our flat, the bare mustard walls and easy plastic furniture drag their feet, having inhaled too much dread."

"I could see him frantically writing himself / into her unfinished novel."

An analogue photo series documenting London Stands With Ukraine, a march and vigil held on 26.3.22.

"nothingness is creation, Dionysus tells"

"I leave the country the next day and wonder whether American films will be forbidden."

"Still is the frame of us, breasts out, carcass feet, heads lolling backwards, four dead daffodils."

"The word ‘confession’ comes from ‘to speak in admission’, that is to say: say to let in."

A photo series exploring themes of sexuality, sexual expression, nudity and the body.

"As a foreigner in Germany and someone whose early life was influenced by war, (...) I often wonder if I had a normal childhood."

Confessions from a time when there seemed to be no threshold of tomorrow.

Delilah Dennett — "I am indigenous. He is white. Yet it is his tears that splatter the pages."

A summer in Ada Bojana, a photographic reflection of time.

"i still think quite often / about that afternoon in your garden / eating oranges in the sun"

"I remember how you stared at me / Amongst all that broken glass and wine; / And how I held my hand out, bleeding"