Homecoming

My bedroom was covered in a layer of dust when I got back. My mum has been in, changed the sheets, given it the cursory tidy round every so often, but the endless piles of books scattered absolutely everywhere had a light film over them. Evidence of my absence for the last two years. It’sContinue

Folklore, country roads, and dreaming of being 17.

I’ve come home for a month. Apart from the time I moved home after going fully mental, this is the longest stretch of time I’ve ever been home where I’ve not been recovering from anything. I went swimming with a friend and when we walked home in the evening light, moon gracing the eastern promise of theContinue