A room full of goldfish

a blog of stories and their illustrations

She washes her hands until they bleed. The actions intended to cleanse, banish and sterilise also chafe, sting and destroy. 

As the cracks appear weeping their tiny wellfulls of blood, she thinks, they did not tell me this. They did not say that purification, that trying to remove the remains of the day from oneself is self destructive. 

She watches the loss of skin swirl down the plughole. 

4 months ago