No Place Like Home by Christopher Wells & BriAnne Wills


Guilty people smile, because they are hiding something…

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In total, we’ve lived in Ukraine for more than three years. We’ve seen much of Ukraine, including its mountainous Black Sea coast. We’ve climbed around Byzantine castles, sunbathed atop Greek ruins, walked the cobbled pathways of 1,000-year-old monasteries and hacked our way through the radioactive territory of Chernobyl. In all of these experiences we’ve tried to capture in photographs moments that meant something to us, in places new and familiar. The series of images of us staring coldly into the camera was our way of playing on the stereotype that Ukrainians are cold people. In reality, they are some of the most generous people we’ve met. They just choose not to smile in photographs, a practice that many of our Ukrainian friends trace back to the Cold War. “Guilty people smile, because they are hiding something,” my friend Lyosha told me. The more candid images are exactly that – candid. Never have we packaged the images together like we have here.

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Christopher Miller is a journalist and BriAnne Wills is a photographer. They have been happily married for one year, and traveling the world together for more than three. They’ve crossed Europe, dabbled in Asia and are currently based in the former Soviet Republic of Kiev, Ukraine. Originally from Portland, Oregon, they often long for good coffee, craft beer and Mexican food, but do enjoy borscht, vodka and salo (look it up).


Reyna Kohl

Reyna Kohl grew up in a town without sidewalks. It was all dirt and horseshit there. And confederate flags flying from stakes sticking out of folks' front lawns. She stopped begging her parents for a pony after having fallen from a horse's back into a patch of sharp and brittle bamboo around the age of twelve. She never did ask for one of those flags. I think she always sensed that there was something evil to the thick blood-red triangles, biting, incisor-like, over the edges of the white fabric rectangle. Not even the stars could sway her into feeling okay about it, and she really likes stars. She now lives in a sidewalk-y city. Only a little bit of horseshit, though no horses live there. She makes natural perfumes under the name Botica.

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Poetry Suite by David Mohan