Describes a work of art designed for a particular locationExhaustion caught up with my body, but not my mind. I roamed the house until the early hours of the morning, vacuuming, dusting, and scrubbing until the cream cleanser wore away the skin from my finger ends. The narrators screamed their cacophony of doom in my mind until I couldn’t think straight. I scoured everything Henare had touched during his visit seven times and still didn’t experience any sense of closure. ‘It’s a mess! It’s all a mess!’ the narrators cried.
And it was.
Though my house gleamed like a show home, my inner turmoil muddied the view like the ground beneath the bench in my painting. I fell asleep on Julia’s rug again, her blanket pulled over my head like a bivouac of safety.
I slept late, waking with a start at
