Luna Dolores - Editorial

The last memory

Ft. Adso.cc Have I always been this way? There’s an emptiness in the way my hands travel across my skin, as if I were searching for myself in a foreign geography, as if my own existence were slipping through my fingers. Something is missing. Something that perhaps was never there, but aches as if it had once been mine. Sadness doesn’t cry here — it floats, clinging to the skin with the delicacy of a memory that refuses to be touched. I think of a face, a voice, a love my mind can’t fully trace. There is an absence carved into my flesh, a forgotten heartbreak lost in the folds of memory. I don’t know who I miss, I only know the emptiness fits perfectly into the shape of something I cannot name.

The Fallen Angel

Ft. Adso.cc He doesn’t fall, he drifts. A fallen angel dissolving slowly into the sky. Suspended in a dream, he floats through an ocean that has no edge, rests on a bed that remembers the shape of longing. Moments later, the ground calls him back, but even there, the dream lingers. A quiet fantasy where silence speaks louder than time.

Abracadabra

Portrait Series, Forest, Coast of Buenos Aires 2024, Lucía Gutierrez, digital.

Rebekka

Portrait Series, Sweet Summer Melody, Test agency BMM, Rebekka Junge, Berlin 2024, digital.

The Inner Ritual

There is a moment, quiet, almost imperceptible, when we turn inward. The way we return to ourselves when no one is watching.

Daria

Portrait Series "Echoes in the Snow" Beneath the breath of winter and the weight of silence, a lone figure crawls through the frost. There is no glory in battle, only the cold embrace of steel and the fragile rhythm of flesh. The frozen earth cradles her body, offering no warmth, only the quiet acceptance of an ending. Her eyes, heavy with the echoes of the fight, slip shut. Her lips, slightly parted, seem to whisper to the wind—words lost to time. No victors remain, only the lingering trace of a struggle endured.