natalie kucken

diary (january)

Dry rose petals rustle over the floor as I throw blankets over the bed. I stay dormant, don’t have a curiosity for things outside my comfort zone and don’t mind, there’s not much to push it to that with someone always by your side. I think about what it would be like leaving the city often but can’t seem to get past the front door. There is no heaviness in me but I can’t remember what it feels like to feel lost and light either.

central park revisited

reworked selects from an editorial shot in central park, 2012

styling by jaclyn bethany
models are simona at trump, sasha at trump, eliska at major, svetlana at major, maris at re:quest

diary (december)

Started the month out on a small roadtrip, went to Maine and drank big cups of wine in a restaurant that was like someone's living room decorated for Christmas, went to Acadia on the day it closed on accident. Skated on the slick ice on the road we were supposed to drive over late at night in front of the car headlights. Went to Canada and there was fog across the valleys in the rural parts. In the city the rain never turned to snow and the quiet subway cars have tires on them. Went to an abandoned orphanage compound and abandoned Cowboys and Indians themed vacation town. Driving back into the chaos of New York was a slap in the face. I continue on not doing much of anything and it feels like winter never begins. Think I'm in a dream half conscious in the front seat of a cab going over the bridge to Brooklyn, the lights on either side of the water swim. I dream that I keep missing my subway stop because the flashing stations are out of order, everything is moving too fast. Watch from my fire escape fire trucks sent out of the station over and over on the night of the 24th, at dawn on the 25th there’s an ambulance parked with its lights flashing outside of a home- I think about bad timing. On the 31st I pay 13 dollars for a pack of cigarettes and get a kiss a few minutes late.