Prose by Charles Hermesmann Photography by Trevor Wee, model Elysia Tay All that was left of Papa after he jumped was a little red blemish on the concrete, small as a star and nearly invisible from the clock’s balcony view. When I woke in the night, he was leaning his body over the railing, a glimmer in [...]
ISSUE 8: ibid. |We Live in a Clock by Charles Hermesmann
