"it's the process that makes you sweet"

by Rachel Lynch

you’re not tired of being broke, you’re not tired of being stuck- cause if you were tired, you would do something about it.

stop complaining, like you’re on the receiving end of whatever this world wants to dump on you.

excuses sound best to the person who’s making them up.

anybody who is determined, who wants something to be different - it will eventually be different.

for every level, there’s another devil.

it is the devil’s job to create obstacles, issues and conflicts, insecurities and fear - sending people to talk you out of your mission.

but i piss the devil off every day, because i just don’t stop.

"manhattan's darling"

by Rachel Lynch

everything she did had feeling, and you wanted to be a part of it.

you couldn’t even explain why, but you wanted in.

it was about her, but not really,

she was one girl, but represented an entire way of being,

a physical manifestation, a reminder,

to live a life of passion, dreaming and art.

she was just one girl in this city,

but so much more.

angel forcefield

by Rachel Lynch

i wanna choose you, but i’m stronger than you, and i always have been. i’ve been told my most fulfilling relationships will come later in life, but i want them now.

i want to meet someone with wings as big as mine, full of heartache, and skyscrapers, and past lovers.

but the tide keeps washing up empty, and I’m left writing poems on the harlem river.

i grew up so fast, being on your own since eighteen makes you incompatible with most people. they don’t have your strength or tenacity; they can’t match your stories, your heartache, or your wit. chances are, they won’t even try. it’s like you’ve read a million books, and they’ve read none. (which is probably also the case.) your ability to survive has made you lonely.

but look at all the gifts you can offer to the world, they’ll say, well who has anything to offer you?

new york city girls are always down

by Rachel Lynch

new york city girls are always down. there’s no where that they’re not, because they never want to be alone. They’re playing music as they walk through the streets, they’ve made their own soundtrack to the city. They’ve got style like no girl you’ve ever seen before, combining things your mother would of thrown away. They are resourceful and exorbitant all in the same breath, restless on amphetamines or sleeping till noon, they’ll still do more in a day then you, it doesn’t matter when they do it. Cause they’ve got the magic, the energy of the city flows through them effortlessly, and you’ll wonder how, because they sold their souls a long time ago to shine like the top of the empire.

You’re lucky if you get lost in the glow.

the artist in central park

by Rachel Lynch

the artist always walks the line between eternal peace and eternal insanity, she is always entirely consumed while being entirely detached. it is the omnipresent magic eight ball’s prediction, she has it all, and has nothing, simultaneously. between the two, she lives, works, and finds meaning in each day. it has never been easy, but she didn’t ask for that anyway.

film photos shot behind the scenes of a video shoot in central park