One Last Night

Essay 39 • Jun 1st 2016

She wakes you gently in the middle of the night. Her voice drips with the sweetness of honey and has the aftertaste of stale lies. Her name is H. "Come see me, darling," she says, "just one last time." Your vision is now skewed as you move closer to her. Her embrace is soft and comforting, but pulls you in like quick sand. You can't fight it, so you give in instead. You love her, even though all of her promises are false. A voice tells you it's time to leave. She already knows, she is one step ahead of you. You prepare for the exit but it's too late, she has already consumed and stolen a part of you. Now you are trapped in her neon room, on the bed you sunk into her, where all remains the same, day after day, until you are given a new chance to escape.

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Nike De Carlo is a twenty-two year-old photographer from Brooklyn, NY

“Documenting youth is important to me because it is a subject that is passionate, never-ending, and fresh. I see boys and girls longing to be free, to be loved, and to experience the wholeness of living. My work relies on the environments that my subjects call home – their secret places where they are most accepted and safe. I choose to document this subject to define the meaning of immunity, discovery, relationships, and friendships.”

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