Where art thou precious prince? The question wafts past the broken heart. Once the coffee and donut dinners pass, the legs shaven after weeks of neglect, and pores are once again made a major life focus, the only thing on the mind is sex. How good it was before it felt so bad. What it was like when it was the best and the moments that made it scream disingenuous genius. Smart yet stupid and crazy, meaningless but vibrantly powerful. Lust lavished in sweat and crumpled sheets tumbled with lacy leggings. Lipstick smear. Beehive hair. Smoke a cigarette? Just maybe.
Words by Nicole Shanahan. Visuals by Seema.