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SUR ZINE // ISSUE 4 // wish you could've been there

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Life is a series of moments,<br />

touchstones, and memories.<br />

We record these in our mind,<br />

in photographs, stories, music<br />

and artwork. Everything<br />

creative that we put out into<br />

the world is a celebration of<br />

life, its dynamics, and growth.<br />

<strong>SUR</strong> is platform to share these<br />

experiences and creations.<br />

+ California based and inspired<br />

+ London published<br />

Contributors:<br />

+ Issue 4 >> wish you could’ve been there<br />

Alexandria Stephens<br />

Luca Puzzoni<br />

Evan Burkin<br />

Caitlin Dinunzio<br />

Tess Venizelos<br />

Anna Cortese<br />

Daniella Islas<br />

Editor:<br />

Daniella Islas


He is a volatile mother<br />

Unclaspabel<br />

With diamond eyes<br />

And dirty hands<br />

Filthy<br />

I listen to his greying breath<br />

Sweeping past the skyscrapers<br />

Picking up their dust<br />

Untitled<br />

Alexandria Stephens<br />

She tells me of the golden morning<br />

Glancing off her stalagmites<br />

And into people’s day-wet eyes<br />

Glass poisoning<br />

Toxic light<br />

They’ll muddle on<br />

I grew up inside her<br />

On the river<br />

And what a beautiful contradiction<br />

I refuse to leave it alone<br />

Any longer<br />

A forbidden combination<br />

Industrial shores<br />

Urban waters<br />

They churn<br />

A cauldron of greens and browns<br />

But in the night<br />

When all else is lost<br />

Her ripples are set to dance<br />

Blessed with trickling light


From her masters bridges<br />

And we lean, recklessly close to death<br />

Entranced<br />

And we are forgiven<br />

And we forgive her<br />

Our city mistress<br />

Plied by her angel water<br />

I loved you once<br />

And I’ll love you again<br />

When I’m inside you<br />

And you inside me<br />

I yearn for purity<br />

I seek it desperately<br />

In every crevice of your body<br />

But I won’t find it there<br />

So I ran,<br />

From your cramped cosy spaces<br />

Fire-light in factory windows<br />

Long forgotten widows<br />

Of a past, past again<br />

I ran away<br />

From your crystal growths<br />

Bursting through the brickwork<br />

Smothering<br />

Us ordinary folks<br />

In rubble<br />

Years I spent<br />

Suspended<br />

On a fly-over<br />

In ugly green<br />

Wanting left<br />

But needing right<br />

The fight's not over yet<br />

And you drew me back in<br />

With all the power<br />

Of an abusive lover<br />

But you are not that alone<br />

You are my friend<br />

Who cradled me<br />

In willow tree<br />

With my back to the lake<br />

Shallow with secrets<br />

Of mine<br />

I told you everything<br />

But I will not look again<br />

My eyes stay on the page<br />

Trained<br />

To find<br />

The thread<br />

Of a better life<br />

And as I sat<br />

In the bow of your bark


The rain could not touch me<br />

Families fled<br />

But I stayed snuggled safe<br />

And listened to her haunted song<br />

Perhaps<br />

I gave<br />

up<br />

A part of my soul<br />

That day<br />

And now<br />

And forever<br />

I am bound to him<br />

To her<br />

To you<br />

You barely let me glimpse<br />

The stars,<br />

But when I do<br />

I wish for more<br />

To be content<br />

Beneath your restless moon


+ Anna Cortese


Polish Me<br />

Caitlin Dinunzio<br />

Teach me to ricochet<br />

from this distant sadness.<br />

Save me<br />

from the cornered-page teardrops—<br />

the love letters<br />

in my burnt nettle pockets.


I adjust to orange umbrellas.<br />

Like alice’s flowers<br />

they sprout<br />

from fountain heads and cathedral squares.<br />

In the Tenth Country<br />

Evan Burkin<br />

Where water runs<br />

they twist on nervous roots<br />

flicking time across their petals.<br />

They know the sun is too high<br />

so they bend and speak.<br />

My language<br />

on their tongues.<br />

The garden gone<br />

I hear the locale<br />

thick with smoke and wine.<br />

My eyes flirt<br />

with the women and men.<br />

Their hair is sin.<br />

It steals from the cross of feet<br />

and pardoned lips.<br />

Alone in a courtyard<br />

my body crowds one of two benches.<br />

The one beneath the tree


Where parrots ruffle<br />

Reflexive of national pride.<br />

Warm light scrapes against the branches.<br />

I drink deep<br />

the brandy dew<br />

to descend between caves<br />

and turtle shells.<br />

I can see the sand below.<br />

Up is forgotten<br />

until there’s the chime of children.<br />

The air untamed in their mouths.<br />

Parents decompose at the sign<br />

Espresso 1 euro.<br />

I only have rubles.


+ Luca Puzzoni


Luca Puzzoni


Just Joseph<br />

iTunes // Soundcloud // Instagram // Facebook<br />

I met Joseph when he was<br />

busking under Blackfriars<br />

Bridge. He said it was a good<br />

location in case it began to<br />

rain; also the sound was great,<br />

he was going for a live<br />

performance feel. His music<br />

has more of that DJ produced,<br />

club-like sound but with real<br />

instruments and organically<br />

made right in front of you.<br />

Just him, his amps, his loop<br />

pedals and guitar. Originally<br />

from Manchester, he<br />

frequents Shoreditch, lives in<br />

Hackney, and busks all over<br />

London. While I watched him<br />

perform people paused and<br />

slowed their pace. His music<br />

entranced all ages walking<br />

along the Thames. Some sat<br />

on the brick wall opposite him<br />

to listen while a mother and<br />

her little girl stopped to twirl.<br />

I sat on the wall as well and<br />

listened, the river just behind<br />

me. Joseph raised the volume<br />

a bit and played with the echo<br />

of the bridge, everything<br />

resonating, keeping tempo,<br />

and layering sound upon<br />

sound. It was a whole and<br />

fluid process and a moment<br />

I’ll never forget.<br />

Personal favorite tune: Dazed<br />

in a Summer Haze


Vinyl<br />

Staircase<br />

Soundcloud //<br />

Instagram // Facebook<br />

Vinyl Staircase has been one of<br />

my favorite discoveries here in<br />

London. This four-piece band<br />

with their strong performance,<br />

hazy lyrics, and captivating<br />

psyche sound caught me at The<br />

Shacklewell Arms like fate. I’ve<br />

been devoted since. Just the<br />

thought that one day I won’t be<br />

able to tap my Oyster and chase<br />

their music, kills me. Their<br />

shows are not merely a set they<br />

are an experience.


This one is for Mamma Molly<br />

Tess Venizelos<br />

This one is for Mamma Molly,<br />

Who taught me how to be brave.<br />

Who showed me what real, unconditional love looks like.<br />

Who gave me a taste of just how much my Heavenly Father loves me.<br />

Who overcame unimaginable, unbearable adversity, tragedy, injustice and pain.<br />

Who, despite her pain and grief, still embodied the purest hope, faith, light and truth.<br />

This one is for Mamma Molly,<br />

Who is the single reason for all my dreams and my inspiration to chase after them.<br />

Who, through the way she influenced my life, taught me that our mark on<br />

other people’s lives bears the most significance.<br />

Who continues to teach me to be honest, vulnerable and true.<br />

Who continues to challenge me to show my heart’s worth and cast out its fears.<br />

Who proved that our strength will overcome our deepest fear of rejection, pain<br />

and abandonment.<br />

Who discarded feelings of defeat and worthlessness with courage and dignity.<br />

Who proved that fears and doubts hold no weight to the worth of our souls.<br />

This one is for Mamma Molly,<br />

Whose truth demands every listening ear.<br />

Whose light still illuminates the darkest corners of the earth.<br />

Whose inspiration continues to captivate hearts all over the world.<br />

This one is for Mamma Molly,<br />

Whose story will ever bring healing and freedom,<br />

And whose love will endure forever.


Westminster Abbey<br />

Daniella Islas<br />

cried in poet’s corner<br />

during the noon prayer<br />

leaflets of sorrow<br />

outside<br />

by<br />

the mound of bouquets<br />

let myself be sprit broken<br />

for a moment<br />

before the tourists pushed past<br />

and the world commenced


+ Blog: surcreate.com<br />

+ Instagram: @surcreate / @goldhatcoolcat<br />

+ Facebook: surcreate

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