READING: "SIBYL OF DOOM" FROM RITUALS OF THE ANTITHETICAL (A.GLASS 2023)

“I love Grafarga shows, they’re crazy...We are the crazy models…” Zabel says, while the other woman holds her hips giggling as they both emulate riding on a motorcycle. “...My Russian girl...I still love you.” Both women embrace.
“Our President sucks...” the Russian accented model says, sticking up both middle fingers into the air. “...Fuck his war.”
“Darling you’re in New York now. From here,…” Zabel checks her phone to see if the cab is near. She looks at the woman standing next to her. “...everything sucks.”
“The world is fucked,” the Russian model says in a drunken manner, as she looks down Eldridge Street as a cab drive up to the curb outside of the club.
In its uncanny composure, Zabel gives the blond woman an assiduous look, in regards to her remark of the state of the world. The cab pulls up, as both women walk towards its passenger doors.
“That it is,” Zabel replies, her look is of a calm disposition, as the Russian model opens the door, and they both step into the parked vehicle. Closing the door the cab turns right at E. Houston Street on a long way around to Wosster street in SoHo where the Russian model lives.
Both woman sitting next to each other, the blond places her left hand on Zabel’s shoulder.
“You wanna stay over?”
Looking into her hazel eyes, Zabel smiles. “I would, but I better get ready for tomorrow…” Turning her head to the right, Zabel looks outside from the cab window, as the streets move rapidly past, merging into a distorted radiance of light and shadows. “...I better sober up.”
“Me too,” the other woman replies. As the cab pulls up to the Russian model’s apartment on Wooster street, both women embrace and then kiss as the blond woman opens the door an exits the cab.
“See you tomorrow,” she says, Zabel nods without replying, but rather gives her a resigned look. As the woman closes the door.
“I’m on Mott street, but you can drop me off on the corner of Spring street.”
The cab driver acknowledges, turning left onto Spring St on the way to the street that Zebel lives on, she continues looking out from the cab window. We are just at the cusp of the storm, it’s not completely descended as yet. But it will be here soon. She thinks to herself, staring up at the passing street lights, as the cab nears Mott St. Pulling to the curb, Zabel thanks the cab driver and steps out onto Spring St, lifting her tote bag, she closes the cab door and swings the bag over her left shoulder. Looking briefly at an overflowing rubbish bin, with a corner deli shut, she looks at the locked ice box covered in graffiti.

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READING: "SIBYL OF DOOM" FROM RITUALS OF THE ANTITHETICAL (A.GLASS 2023)