Zavy

Invasion Barbare starts with restraint. A lavender, clear and luminous, rises gently like steam over pressed cotton. There is something old-fashioned in the best sense, a gesture of care, a button done up slowly, a morning...

It begins in twilight. Not a slow descent into night, but a plunge. The air is thick with something unsaid, and plum rises like a dark liqueur, sticky, bruised, a little drunk. You almost expect sweetness to follow, but it never...