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The boys rode out there along the old Snake Road, chained their bicycles together, then snuck in through the hole in the wire fence. The sand quarry of vast white mountains and murky lagoons became their playground. They scrambled down to the gritty beach, then stripped down to their shorts, and lay out in the sun, sipping from lukewarm quarts and smoking ten cent loosies. The strongest of the boys strayed from the group and began to paint his face and chest with the clay at the water’s edge. The other boys laughed, then quietly, one by one, went themselves down to the water and did the same. In the sun, the clay hardened, along with their resolve. Again, it was the strongest boy who pointed towards the towering white rock across the lagoon. The boys roared, smashing their quarts against the rocks, then ran into the water. After swimming across the quarry, and climbing to the top of the highest outcrop, they all jumped. None of them asked why or backed down. They all jumped. It wasn’t just about growing up. But they never did. Years later, when the quarry was drained, they found the bodies of the lost boys. All perfectly preserved in their innocence.

Art by Roberto Slomp. After graduating from art school in 2018, Roberto taught himself digital art, focusing on the surrounding environment as reference for his work. He strives to isolate himself from the influence of the superficial images endlessly slipping under our fingertips to feed our ever increasing need for entertainment.


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