“We get off of the train, all red and windows and something comical. And suddenly the city is back inside me, heavy concentrate thickening up my veins, plucking at my chest. And there is a room and a light and a road and suddenly I want to whisper an apology to the girl who used to live there, the girl who tried her best to make a life out of the sickness in her stomach, the grey beneath her feet, the colours that could not quite distract. I want to tell her that I am sorry to have dismissed the ways in which she begged for survival…. I want to tell her that I am sorry I smothered her fight.”
Old haunts
