By Ira Lupu


“Naked limbs, splayed fingers, milky blue skin, and a face veiled by a net of dull winter trees’ shadows. Is this some morbid nymph drowning in the forest lake, faintly pleading for help from inside the frozen pond? Or is it a real girl who shares all the uncertain feelings of your mortal soul? As you walk on that thin ice, it’s for you to decide. Just don’t wet your panties.”


Photography Ira Lupu

Text Lucien Ducasse



(outtake from print issue LUST)

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