by Jolyn Low
These streets are no longer familiar to my brain, let alone the lack of trees shielding me from their gaze. Bus routes and train tracks so well-acquainted but I double check them just in case. The heaviness of the air weighs me down with every breath I take - and I struggle to break free from the shell that I once was in this place, city, or perhaps I can call it home but it is not the same. I remain incarcerated by my memories, a reminder of a different time and place. If I could accept this as my reality perhaps I would allow myself the disillusion that this is my forever place. But no, this city is temporary and I know that at least for now I long for a greater, vast space.