Frame: 21" Cult

Bars: 8.25"Cult chopped a quarter inch

Stem: Sunday TL

Grips: CultxVans

Fork: Cult

Pegs: 3 Animal Butcher

Rims: Shadow Stun Front - Sun Big Baller Rear

Hubs: Shadow Raptor front - Shadow Raptor LHD Rear

Guards: Raptor guards both on right side

Tires: Primo WLT 2.3 Both

Chain: Cult Halflink 

Sprocket: Tree OG Spline Drive

Seat: Animal Pivitol

Cranks: Premium 1948

Pedals: Cult PC

There is a sacred boundary between those who are close
And it cannot be crossed by passion or love–
Though lips fuse in dreadful silence
And the heart shatters to pieces with love.

Friendship is helpless here, and years
Of exalted and ardent happiness,
When the soul is free and a stranger
To the slow languor of voluptuousness.

Those who strive to reach it are mad, and those
Who reach it–stricken by grief…
Now you understand why my heart
Does not beat faster under your hand.

—  Anna Akhmatova, translated by Judith Hemschemeyer

Handmade prisoner’s notebook with this Anna Akhmatova poem committed to memory:

The twenty-first. Night. Monday.
The outlines of the capital are in mist.
Some idler invented the idea  
That there’s something in the world called love.

And from laziness or boredom,
Everyone believed it and here is how they live:
they anticipate meetings, they fear partings
And they sing the songs of love.

But the secret will be revealed to the others,
And a hush will fall on them all . . .
I stumbled on this by accident
And since then have been somehow unwell.


From The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova (trans. Judith Hemschemeyer; ed. Roberta Reeder). (Somerville, Mass.: Zephyr Press, 2000).