• Marcel Wormsley

It never really felt much like home again.


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It never really felt much like home again. The sun-kissed meadows of my youth were now replaced by a tawdry and vulgar juxtaposition of discount furniture stores, blaring neon 24-hour checks cashed signs, and eldritch lofts hastily adorned with skeuomorphic Victorian-era window panes sometimes doubling as psychic’s offices.

Where the ferns once blossomed now sits a ghastly array of pastel-colored houses with no windows, overgrown gardens with no flowers, and sinuous dusty streets endlessly teeming with decrepit cafes emanating sounds of droll laughter from patrons with no bodies. But I still had her.

Art: Justyna Kopania

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