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Literature
Farah
“I’ll walk,” says Farah, blinking away rage. Her forehead is kissed and her shoulders are rubbed and then she is rolling down a street still dark from the neighbour’s cat leaving her breath in every corner. A green car stumbles past, a black tree howls and now she is running, dark hair falling from her woollen shoulders like scarves from a rack. Scenery flashes behind long white legs and ragged feet. A bell rings and she is still and warm and her shoulders are cotton blend. She is safe.
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Farah lies awake at night and pretends she is blind in the darkness. She listens to her parents fuck and her little brother cry unti
Scribbles
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Scraps
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