This little booklet doesn’t claim to be a goth zine, but the self obsessed free form rants from Filomena Ambrosino read like goth liturgies. The toner smeared and faded pics don’t do much to lighten the atmosphere. Particularly chilling is the centre spread in which a faded laughing girl is encased in a box of prose that asks: “Is there a shape for this laughter? So I could feel it with my hands?” There’s some great, dark writing here – check out “The Way I Breathe”: “the story of a girl who lit herself on fire told through the very same eyes that have been through black and back.” (HN)
zine, $1