“If magazines have skin, wearing clothes to cover themselves, applying creams to stay youthful (at least in appearance), flaunting signatures to certify their authority, and doing everything they can to beautify the shell to hide what’s inside (which is sometimes little, sometimes old, sometimes nothing at all), the other side of publishing is made up of bare bodies, scars on display, and sometimes even scales. Scales that hide other scales: layered one on top of the other, mobile and flexible, protecting each other like tiny shields. Beneath it all, the flesh. And in Squame (Scales in Italian), a zine about “graphic experiments and poetic and/or delirious texts,” there’s certainly no shortage of it.“
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