The Untouchables

My and Juliette's final photo project based on a prose poem I wrote long ago ... thought I'd share:

They tumble into Chelsea and the Lower West Side, dripping green tea ice cream from the corners of rapidly drying lips and they are so high from the galleries and the cotton candy nudes and the pot and the “magnitude of art” and the cigarette smoke and tangled whipping hair that she finally can't take it anymore, breaking herself off from the three of them like peanut brittle limbs, crrraaaaccck, and rolls down West 23^rd, holding her hands like earmuffs to block the echoes of “I feel like this one work has expanded my entire conscious,” and, “It's like a whole other level of creative energy, you know?” until she hears only a slight buzz, quieting her mind enough to make the approaching couple loom dangerously toward her in the stale light emanating from the bodega and she squeezes her head like an orange and wills it to juice and when it refuses to, she drapes herself over the ice cream counter and licks her face until it is sugared and covered in green-tea-flavored makeup and she sees herself in the reflection of the glass candy jar, dropping into a pool of her own profundity.

Many thanks to our lovely models - Claire, Dana, Amelia and Mike, you're all beautiful.