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reflections on belonging

a palmers chronicle right bw

Graphic Novels

Photo by author
And even if he was only a ghost, arising from the depths of her own unconscious, that day was stuck in her memory. And in it was born the weak shadow of a feeling that she had never before experienced. Not fully understanding, she made peace with the memory, as though something she experienced in a dream could happen in real life. Maybe not to her, but to someone. And that was new, like a small azure flower in the bottomless grey of indifference.

Photo by Neringa Rekašiūtė
Herman smiles. He recalls how they once all danced in this changing room, dressed up in each other’s clothes. How for the umpteenth time Telegin broke a guitar string, and it hit him right in the eye and everyone got a fright. They were not simply a troupe of actors, they were brothers and sisters now, irreversibly separated by time. Maybe it is a good thing that it turned out this way.

Photo by Greta Skaraitienė
Walter hated the new world that threw away the rare, unique object as worthless and out-dated. A world where the uniqueness of the person was just an anachronism.
             He hated the world that believed it had killed God, and the primary Creator along with Him, now entrusting creation to the machine.

Photo by B. Januševičius
We would really prefer that the circumstances surrounding mysterious occurrences or pricking insights, these so-called realizations, always be interesting and unique. Sadly, they’re often banal and mundane, even worse – as if transplanted to life from a bad motion picture.

Photo by Vika Paškelytė
Suddenly, the mermaid raises her head, turns to the right, and looks straight into the lens of the camera. The scientists stare at her eyes, round as tennis balls, with black dots in the centre. The mermaid doesn't blink, and looks comically surprised.

Personal archive photo
Waiting is incredibly emotional when you know that the person approaching is coming for you, coming to meet you, coming just for you. It’s like slowly licking slices of chilled pineapple, the juice running down your fingers, when your mouth and the entire world are full of that heavenly, sticky sweetness.

Photo by Laima Stasiulionytė
so long as our partying ended with nothing more than frenching and cuddling in bed together, everything was cool. but when all three of us started having sex – together, and separately – well, povky more or less made love to laura, but when i started to do that too, everything changed.

Photo by Dalia Mikonytė
Water is the most hypocritical of all, it can even rise again after it has subsided. Water is an actor and illusionist who always hides a trump card in his jacket sleeve.

Photo by Lamų Slėnis
For some reason, when a person dies, everyone suddenly forgets that he was an old pervert we all tried to stay away from. Or a jackass that was always prattling on. If a second-generation radicalised Afghan immigrant shoots you dead at an LGBT club in Miami, the road to media heaven clears up for you.

Photo by Regimantas Tamošaitis
And you don't need to understand anything. You’re only a branch, shaking with the whole tree. It’s a special wind, and from this day on you’ll always recognise it: it blows when a loved one is taken from you, and a hole appears in their place, a terrible hole for terrible winds.

Photo by Dainius Dirgėla
… Unfortunately, it’s happened more than once that the thing, the place or the person I desired, once I had experienced them, did not give me the awaited and hoped for joy. Instead of taking on clear contours, as when, after putting on one’s glasses, the image on the monitor comes into focus, they went on living not in one form but two. Moreover, the primary fruit of fantasy prevailed, becoming more real than the real one.



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