Passage by Zerkalou Last year, most of my friends and I were exiting our high school phase into the idyllic post-adolescence of adulthood, which of course, is strife with malaise, a perpetual confrontation with inadequacies as both artists and people, and ultimately, without proper guidance or assurance whatsoever. As we tried to come to terms with our new, “mature for our age” adult selves, I don’t think we could ignore that we ended up becoming even more like the high schoolers we wanted to be back then. We hung around each other’s houses until 3AM watching movies and laughing, all the while knowing we had our typical minimum wage jobs to run off to a few hours afterwards. We ran around our plastic suburbs and quaint valley towns, taking goofy pictures until the hours became their dim, melancholic blue; and we drifted around the empty city streets in each other’s cars, watching the clementine lights whir by as we tried to set aside the malaise we were all secretly feeling. There were of course, those rare, …