I’ll say it for them:

This tough-minded blitz of a ‘zine can call me of one of its captives.  Sharp.  Satirical.  Unflinchingly honest.  Unsaid rides a hard edge.  I just keep wanting to praise it.  Issue three has already stapled itself inside that soft spot above my lungs.  The place where everyone keeps telling me the heart is.

Founded in 2003 by David McLendon – whose facebook picture alone would do Martin Parr proud – the welcome mat on the Unsaid homepage reads:

Welcome to Unsaid

Most likely you found us by losing your way. Good for you. One needs to become lost from time to time, especially when seeking what can only be found in one’s inmost hidden room. Look around in the rooms in here. Maybe you’ll find something both strange and familiar. Touch it. Smell it. Taste it. Then take what you see and take it apart. Smash it. Crush it. Then scatter the pieces. Now follow each scattered piece. You will lose your way again. And again. But keep following the scattered pieces. After some time you will see them for what they are. You will follow what is yours and you will learn to call it home.

I always have been a sucker for putting broken things in mouth and examining them.

Check it out here.


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