#seunx

Red shades coupled w/ Gold fronts — sometimes it's just that simple.

Had a lot of fun working with this talented crew! I'm looking forward to creating more memories.

Model: @kennijohn

Inhale the earth

Photographer: Seunx 

Model: Alice Yamagishi

MUSA 

/ Mu·sa  \ˈmyüzə\

We wanted to showcase the simplistic elegance of a Hausa man (a native of northern Nigeria) in traditional garb known as a thawb or thobe, a garment typically worn during Ramadan for prayer in addition to the brimless kufi hat. As fellow Nigerians, both photographer and creative director/model aimed to signify the overall tapestry between all; that being the intrinsic connection between this man, his thawb, and his lands.

Photographer/Editor: Seun Gun

Creative Director/Model: Josef Adamu

Creative Assistant: Giovanni McDonald

Cracked Earth,

A Beauty I Recall.

As I Plummeted, Fully Engulfed,  My Whispers Changed Her God. 

Silk To The Skin,

I Strangled Massaged Her Broken Neck Bones

Those Muted Piano Keys 

Play No More.

As I hum -- In this teal suit

Almost congealed to my dark skin.

She paints on lambskin napkins

And bookmarks unfinished art books with Orchids.

With a playful tan line of where her brassiere once was

I'm sure the sun and God took turns painting it there.

Nestled sand beneath dance with me.

As we ascend upwards a never-ending staircase built from books on heaven,

My modelesque figure with the giraffe neck whispers as softly as air...

"You are heaven.

 You will never find you".

 Plummet back to hell

 As plucked flowers...

 We, the Devil's bed.

  © Seunx 2014

By:

Our eyes meet in mid-air

A cold kiss, we don't blink,

Who would dare?

For In this eternal game of chicken

Neither steers their optical wheels,

So we stare, deepening

Our optimal Wills

and deep within our souls edge

Before the road ends

Both Lovers Die,

Both Friends

By: S E U Nx

Hieroglyphics aligned on ribs, minus one, Forever hiding God's scars. Her highness' lips I tease with royal honey.

Satin felt brassiere, unlatched with ivory canines as rabid wolves drenched in wanderlust, such in discovery of new fertile lands.

Iron cuffs bound to Persian bedposts have no greater link than I in Her, and I in Her is where Heaven and Hell merge carnal delights, angelic harps, with the echoing drumming of devilish hearts.

Painted moans sing from the canvas of her ageless soul, forever aging slow...ly. Drink of my goodness and I will eat of your bone, both from below, Italian feather thread count immeasurable, as we lost angels shed in flight over the Ruins of Rome.

Lo and behold in champagne baths lathered in petals of rose, Beluga Caviar served upon the throne of our Victorian Turkish Bath.

Skin of Midas disrobed with only laced blindfolds above her nose, perfumes profuse while in admiration of her youthful ruse.

Blood rises from her hidden sight, carefully applied rouge, and in unabashed nude, we howl at the last moon.

~seunx