Lucy had nothing to do with the fire. It was not her fault.

Photo Credit: Uliana Semenova

Emaciated. His eight-year-old boy looked emaciated.

Tim rolls over like a sack of potatoes. No snuggling after sex. No whispered sweet nothings.

I began walking on open-blistered feet, a faint trail of blood making a rich and rusted mud of footprints behind me.

Every time I take a photo, I look to capture both beauty and darkness.

Her feet were dirty. She hated when her feet were dirty.

Photo Credit: Chloe Combs

Living amongst these crowded branches was the greatest challenge of the year.

As he emerged from the birth canal, the warm air from the delivery room heater took him in his embrace.

Photo Credit: Grace Sleeman

Foundational texts in horsemanship and horsecareship.

Photo Credit: Kristin Hildebrand

The kingdom is in disarray. It has been for years, it is said.

There is a girl. There always is. In every story, standing afar.

Photo Credit: Kristin Hildebrand

Click ‘Start Journey’ to receive audio instructions.

Photo Credit: Grace Sleeman

The air was still. A silver valley, padded with snow.

Photo Credit: Grace Sleeman

The clouds swirled over the perfect blue of the seas.

Photo Credit: Kristin Hildebrand

There is a void at the end of the garden. Both gardens, to be exact.

Photo Credit: Kristin Hildebrand

The last paint strokes were laid on paper by Rit’s brush before climbing the corporate building.

Photo Credit: Grace Sleeman

A girl cannot stop herself from evolving. She must fight, a brutal and bloody battle for her beauty.

Photo Credit: Kristin Hildebrand

A shimmering needle clasped between the calluses of a left pointer finger and thumb. A single cohesive release.

Photo Credit: Kristin Hildebrand

Dizzy in a vacuum, he felt the silence sting his skin, hearing nothing of his surroundings.

Photo Credit: Chaitra Shidhalingannavar

The monochrome photograph of three boys the little girl had never heard of before sat in the dining room on top of the white lace table runner.