Skins

Wet Roses

Each man carried a box over his shoulder. Maybe 30 of them walking in a single line down Flatbush. They were short but stocky, the boxes looked oversized

Photo ©Icarus Blake

 Wet Roses

Each man carried a box over his shoulder. Maybe 30 of them walking in a single line down Flatbush. They were short but stocky, the boxes looked oversized compared to their bodies. A Japanese tourist took a picture. -It smells like roses- he said to his girlfriend in Japanese. She bowed smiling politely. The man leading the line got bumped by a teen-ager. -Mierda!- he mumbled as he tried not to lose the box. A police car crawled along the men for a while, the officer sitting shotgun was eating a whooper. He did not want to investigate. Could hardly be drugs, it’s early morning after all. The men entered an industrial building through a large sliding door. They bitched up a flight of stairs and entered Studio 4.

I was bent over a mac picking some shots. I saw some commotion reflected  in the screen. I turned around and saw a bunch of men piling up boxes in a corner of the studio. I did not remember ordering any large quantities of props for the shoot. I walked over and asked what was in the boxes. -Rosas – Said one man with a grin. – Three thousand rosas – Really? I ordered 300 roses for the shoot not three thousand. I tell them, they show me an email from my stylist. She typed an extra zero.

-Esta bien Senor?- Esta bien my ass.  What am I going to do with all these roses. The air in the studio is imbued with a sharp scent, it’s almost excessive. -Take them out of the boxes!- I order in desperation.  -All of them?- replies the assistant.

Now the studio floor is red with roses. We walk around pushing petals. We wet them and take pictures. I imagine keeping them there till they fade. Just a gigantic room full of dying roses. The model arrives and she does not quite understands what is going on. -These roses have thorns, I’m not lying on them pal!-  No worries, I will. And so I do. Just gently lie down and have my assistants cover me with roses. Wet roses, that is.

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Icarus Blake & Max Power: Editors in Chief
Lora Wiley: Managing Editor
Nancy Cooper: Finance Supervisor
Miko Sala: Art Director
Daniel Cardona: Assistant Graphics Designer
Teo J. Babini: Senior Supervising Editor
Tiffany Credle: Associate Copy Editor
Andrew Rodriguez: Editorial Producer
Matt Heidkamp: Editorial Producer
Greta Pininfarina: Editor at Large
ePublished by Kodezero NYC
Tech Supervision: developing.it

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Contributors to this issue:

Quinlan Braiwick/Fuck Technology
I’ve been writing for as long as I can remember. My mother’s favorite memories of me involve stories I’d write as a child of six who shouldn’t have been writing like that at all. Not much has changed since then; I’ve only developed an understanding of sentence structure and become significantly more verbose. There isn’t much in this world that doesn’t infuriate me. I don‘t think that I’m special for disliking these things; few people are charmed by rudeness and vulgarity. The singular difference is that I am much, much angrier about it. I calm myself by chain smoking, drinking scotch, and writing songs and stories about how angry I am. I am twenty-five with a resentment towards the fools in the world that rivals the angriest senior to ever sit on a porch and shout at neighborhood children. I am angry at everything and I’m going to tell you about it.
FueledByPoison@gmail.com

The Dime Store Casanova /A Monopoly On the Truth
Joe Sonnenblick is an actor and writer, has studied under the tutelage of New York’s dope fiends, pushers, vagrants and women. Thanks to coffee and pot.
jsonnenblick@gmail.com

Maureen Keeney/A Monopoly On the Truth
Maureen Keeney is an illustrator who attended the School of Visual Arts in Manhattan. While trying fruitlessly to pay off her student loans, she draws sometimes to maintain her sanity.
maureenekeeney@gmail.com

Kevin Ornelas/Best of Instagram
HI I’M KEVIN I was born somewhere, and then grew up. Along the way I went to a school where I learned about important things. Like student loans. I’ve traveled to different cities and worked for different famous and important people. Then I ended up where I am now. And this is where I do stuff. I’ve haven’t won any important and/or impressive awards for some of that stuff. I hope to continue doing stuff for sometime now.
kevinaornelas@gmail.com

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