“Where the fuck are my pants?” In the background of that thought echoes: why am I talking to the dog? A buzz from outside. Coming, coming. I pull on my denim skirt instead. “Am I a murderer Dougie? Noooo, mama’s no murderer is she?” Dougie just stares with his ugly lop-sided face. I guess EthanContinue reading “Clinic”
Writer & Photographer | Digital Portfolio
