117 Million

Monochrome, Emma Lassiter

Anyways, I’ve been thinking about going for a swim. I have been researching lakes and bodies of water. I am uncompromising and precise in my analysis of them from 3000 miles away. There is a way it ought to be: a crystal perpetually stuck in the moment it is turned to liquid. It should be warmed by the sun, and slightly sweet like those flowers that aren’t awfully beautiful or fragrant, but do a lot for the nostalgia of it all, smelling of warm life. There should be no one for miles, and an absolute guarantee of this that only I possess. 

I try to apply context and circumstance and how do I look, but there is none of that here. Not a moment of before or after, only supercuts of a frantic happiness cellophaning my face in marvelous blues and greens, impressing my anonymous features on a thousand panes of water, and the enormous peace that comes with being swallowed whole by all of that life. There is an aloneness like castile soaps that dry the skin, the hygiene of it is tight and certain. It lifts my arms and takes my weight. The sun has the eye of my mother and bores through my lake with a loving awakeness.

About the Author

Winter Grasso · University of Alaska Fairbanks

Winter Grasso is a student at the University of Alaska Fairbanks. She was born and raised in Denali, Alaska. Her work is inspired by all of the women in her life and all of their stories. This piece first appeared in Ice Box.

About the Artist

Emma Lassiter · University of Central Arkansas

Emma Lassiter is a senior studying creative writing at the University of Central Arkansas where she is the Editor-in-Chief of The Vortex Magazine of Literature and Fine Art. She has interned with Et Alia Press and The Oxford American, and her photography has previously been published in Salmon Creek Journal. This piece first appeared in The Vortex.

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