Neve

I am a child once more, a vulnerable child. I find myself standing in a shed with a wooden floor, a bare wall, a flaking ceiling, a door with a shattered glass pane, and a black door – far off in the distance. Curious to find out where the door leads, I pad barefoot across the splintered planks until I catch my foot on a nail, a shard of glass, a splinter or something, cruel and hooked. I sit cross-legged on the floor and ease the nail out of the sole of my foot. It bleeds. I bleed. And yet it doesn’t hurt me. I get the feeling nothing, no-one, will ever hurt me here.

Main Photo: Neve