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Leavings

I’m not good at them. Even for just one night. I am dislodged by them. My centre is here, my core, my ballast, eventhough here is far from perfect and certainly not my dream. It is what I know. What I share with him. And leaving it is hard. Even for the promise of rest. Funny that.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.