Written by Jacob Ibrag
The shades of imperfection. The strides taken
to eliminate what’s left of this. This thing we let manifest
between the hours of midnight and forever. The claims you sing,
swearing that none of it mattered in peaks end. It did though, and
no it wasn’t perfect. It was messy, and mostly incomplete. It
was ours and neither one of us can take that away.
Photography by Keenan Constance