bkk UNZINE Issue 24

Loving Loss

Published: 1st August 2022

BKK Unzine Issue 24 - Loss
Loss was a difficult there and concept to get to and to get through. If there is something the passing of time has taught us, it’s that when something is lost, something else takes its place. And we hope you realize that the difficult times you feel are only happening to you, are only passing clouds that shouldn’t change your true colors. Loss made us who we are. It’s not a reminder of suffering but part of life and art.

Maia, Jam, Venky, Boris

Artists in this issue

Piya Profile


Moe J

Moe J



Thorns of Grief

Piya - Thorns of Grief
Acrylics on wood panel, 60×80 cm

This artwork was made shortly after the loss of our beloved cat named ‘Kitty’. Her loss is one of the saddest things that happened in my life as she has always been like a child to me and brought me comfort. ‘Thorns of Grief’ is a bitter-sweet tribute to her as the thorns leave me bleeding, surrounded by frozen roses in winter, I embrace her closely to me in my memories.


The Balloon Man

Giuliano Evolution
Fineliner pen

I thought a lot about the theme LOSS: loss of a human being, loss of a material object, loss as an emotion…

I saw this old man on the cobbled streets of Istanbul selling helium balloons of today’s trending characters (The Minions, Minnie Mouse, Spiderman…). No one–no child–was paying him attention. I recalled old memories from my childhood when my sister and I dragged one of our parents to get us these magical flying balloons that left us in awe when it escapes our tiny fingers into infinity.

This thought made me wonder if, in the age of social media and rapid technology, we are experiencing a loss of innocence.

Moe J

War Poem Canto IV

And there are moments
When mind becomes untethered
And loses itself in loss
Like a mole confused and blind
Groping in the labyrinth of tunnels
It has built
Hardly able
To find its way back
Especially when wary
Of returning

A return of man’s savagery
A return to paucity
Scavenging to survive–
Even the sparse doctors and nurses
Or trained anesthesiologists and amputers
With no degree, as I suspect they are,
Suspect them of not having,
Are scavengers
(How long they will
Allow me,
Lower than them,
Scavenger below scavengers,
To stay in this bed
And consume rations
Is anyone’s guess).

So why not descend into those tunnels
Lost in loss–
Loss endemic
Even in the happiest of lives:
To be ten is to relinquish
Beloved habits, associations, persons
That once were embedded in being nine.
And all who were once the he
That was a boy
Lose most boyhood memories
Relatively soon
Shedding that cocooned being

So, not a betrothal per se
It was little promised to
And although the thought
Of her kept me going
In those nights of battles
Like the abused tortured child
Who befriends, in his imagination,
The embraces of Jesus Christ,
The only value of a non-existing god
In saving children from
Suicidal or patricidal/matricidal aims,
She was free to go,
And now having learned
That her handsome boy
Is a defective product,
A limb-less tree,
She seeks her pollen
Of course she would.
Not a letter,
Not a post card,
Nothing to be shocked about
As all is nothing

A poem by Steven David Justin Sills.

Steven Sills