Author Archives

Jul 13, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

With You

Life, as it should be.

Poolside at The Mondrian.
Los Angeles, California. Love your woman – DK



Read More
Jun 22, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Del Mar

Because some roads lead to the sea.

The semblance of vehicular rush, on Catalina Island.
Avalon, California. Rilassare- DK


Read More
Jun 16, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Implode (The Affections of Calliope)


As he navigated the subdued corridors, his tempered stride unhurried above the muted flooring of the prosperous publisher’s Midtown post, he was greeted with an infectious enthusiasm, usually reserved for premières of state, the celebrated, and those rarified individuals, whose social cachet can only be countered by the weight of their fortunes.

 

“Mulberry,” Neil would exclaim from his leather perch. “Have a seat!”

 

The architect took his place at the desk of Neil Horowitz, allowing his patient frame to halt within the sturdy embrace of the nondescript office chair. Strewn about the desk in similarly non-sequential order, were the rose petal pages of his broken friend’s travels.

 

“So, I’ve been going through this journal…”

 

Neil took hold of a page leaf, reclining comfortably in the leather chaise, to reference the linen document.

 

“Actually, it was my wife who read through the entire thing. She loves it.”

 

The artisan fancier lowered his gaze momentarily.

 

“I mean, absolutely loves it!” Neil beamed. “And you know Lucy. She hates everything I publish.”

 

Maxwell raised his acute vision, to observe the media mogul once more.

 

“From what I can tell, the man’s done everything,” Neil asserted. “Been everywhere.”

 

Maxwell listened, his navy blue Tom Ford ensemble as quiet as his demeanor. And though his thoughts did amble from global marketing plans to dinner tables fashioned in onyx stone, he afforded the publishing mogul his continued attention, who was generous in his admiration of the quixotic exploits of the de Gris Laurent heir.

 

“I mean, this is great Max. This is really fucking great! To think! A gazillionaire! Who knows how much money this guy has, right? Completely vanishes off the face of the Earth, donates his fortune to charity, travels to some god-awful, third world countries, lives off the land, I mean…”

 

Maxwell observed, as Neil found it difficult to reserve his delirium.

 

“I can get the studios to back a film,” Neil said. “I’ve already got Avi Levine on a plane back to New York to work on a global marketing push!”

 

Despite the publisher’s enthusiasm, Maxwell knew that defined certainty, in relation to several years of unanswered questions, remained with a man, who at this time, most likely held court on the Côte d’Azur.

 

The architect began to rise from the anonymous seat, and begged the forgiveness of his exasperated host.

 

“My apologies,” Maxwell began. “If you will excuse me.”

 

“Where are you going?” the publisher insisted.

 

The Platonist architect observed his contemporary once more, before returning the chair to its original post.

 

“Cap d’Antibes.”

 

Implode. Part LXX – DK


Read More
Jun 05, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Isola di Mele

Perhaps you too, will be restored.

The vibrancy of the marina, at Catalina Island.
Avalon, California. Apples – DK



Read More
May 15, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Implode (To My Friend, HRH)

 

Although they beseeched those who would wish them well, within the vaulted echoes of Westminster Abbey, to forgo the betrothal of gifts, in exchange for the promise of charity, he thought it would be remiss of his nature, to abstain from offering a modest token of his regard for the future king.

 

It was a gilded Mulberry creation of pure iridium, forged and crafted by the artisan himself, and presented in nearly as much confidence as the bride’s immaculate gown. Etched within the four sterling posts was a phrase, attributed to the sovereign’s ancestor, and inscribed by his careful hand in the original Old English:

 

Þæt is nu hraðost to secganne, þæt ic wilnode weorðfullice to libbanne þa hwile þe ic lifede, and æfter minum life þæm monnum to læfanne þe æfter me wæren min gemyndig on godum weorcum

 


The calligraphic representation of his regal lineage revolved into a magnificent convolution throughout the gleaming frame, until the millennial phrase met at the apex of the distinctive piece, which was crowned by a radiant, round-brilliant, amber sapphire, the breadth of which could only be comprehended in myth. The stone, mined from the abysmal depths of a former colony, belonging to HRH, was fortified within a decorative platinum pedestal and hoisted at a determined angle, best suited to accommodate the sun, as well as the fluorescent embers of moonlight.

 

It was the second bed he had ever made.

 

Implode. Part LXVIX – DK



Read More
Apr 17, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Rapture

There was a time, when her heartbeat was my own.

Il Palazzo Ducale, Venezia.
Venice, Italy. Crimson – DK



Read More
Mar 24, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Implode (The Tutelage of Matsumoto)

 

It was necessary.

 

The hurt.
The disappointment.

 

If we recall, creation is not tranquil.

 

It is violent.

 

Maniacal.
Marred in awe.

 

That day was no exception.

 

As the Earth moved, a legion disheveled by its tempered rage, her thoughts wandered toward that small fishing village in Hokkaido, where she learned to ply her trade.

 

Where she learned to become patient.

 

That day,
When the Earth moved,

 

She remembered the sea.

 

Implode. Part LXVIII – DK



Read More
Mar 15, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Admiration

The influence of Rome.

Roman arches, adorning The Mercer.
SoHo, New York City. Rispetto – DK



Read More
Mar 13, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Implode (A View of Spring)

 

There was an impalpable moisture, permeating the air. It was subtle and lithe, like the Ferragamo scarf that adorned her neck. As she rode aft the yellow coach, the halcyon gale a soft whisper against her porcelain skin, she basked in the somber lull of the morning solitude. And whilst the ashen cumulus of a foreboding sky would revel in its gray coup of the sun, Claire appeared in bliss, ensconced beneath the veil of a tranquil dawn.

 

She adored the spring. Particularly in New York City.

 

Her delicate feet and their modest Coach soles met the pavement at the prestigious edge of Central Park South, where the iconic lodge, whose fabled exterior fashioned in Second Empire Baroque, has beaconed the discerning wayfarer for 100 years. As she approached the noted auberge, an attentive doorman would encounter the Lady Mulberry curbside, umbrella in tote, and accompany her toward the revered steps, where the venerable Italian and his affable pup idled beneath the storied awning.

 

“Buongiorno, signora.” Giancarlo greeted from a distance.

 

“Buongiorno, Giancarlo,” Claire would offer. “Mi dispiace, I…”

 

“Non freta, signora,” Giancarlo interjected. “Tutto bene?”

 

“Si, tutto bene,” She replied, before kneeling to relay her fondness for the well-mannered pup. “Have you been waiting long?” She inquired.

 

“Not long. We take the walk to the park.”

 

“That’s wonderful!” Claire exclaimed. “I was going to suggest as much. It’s the perfect day for a stroll, particularly during birding season.”

 

As she stroked his sable fur, the chocolate Sussex spaniel mirrored the au fait chef’s enthusiasm, its tail a wag.

 

“Did you encounter any Ceruleans?” she inquired. “Or perhaps a Golden-winged Warbler?”

 

Giancarlo thought momentarily.

 

“No, signora.”

 

He took a moment, in search of the words.

 

“We met a man who lost his heart.”

 

Implode. Part LXVII – DK


Read More
Mar 03, 2011 | Post by: Devon Knight No Comments

Encounter

Storied corners. Memorable loves.

The veritable Via Della Croce.
Rome, Italy. Promise – DK



Read More
Page 1 of 1712345...10...The Beginning »
  • A NOTE ON IMPLODE

    With regard to <em>Implode</em>, certain details, locations, occurences, et al. may not resonate along your cerebral palate if read out of context. For this reason, it is recommended following the episodes in chronological order, as they appear, which requires a bit of time travel.

    The first experience occurs in January 2010 with <a href="http://vaionyva.com/2010/01/implode-the-birth-of-max-mulberry/">The Birth of Max Mulberry</a>.

    Thank you.
    Grazie.
    Merci.

    For allowing me to be apart of you,
    If only for a moment.

    - DK