I am Home

There was a day when it all felt 'normal'. I only remember that my hand independently stopped thumbing through the calendar on my lap and I looked up sharply at the brick wall, as if it had started speaking to me. Staring at nothing, eyes glazed over as I looked inside not out I watched the moment… Continue reading I am Home


My name, my city, Peter Pan and David Bowie

I know my city deeply, I know its stink. I know the parts where the air is thick, quiet and still sorry. Like the exhausted market where a child was stolen and tortured near by, by other children until dead. The flower park that I used to walk through every school day, where a boy… Continue reading My name, my city, Peter Pan and David Bowie