We’d gone into an abandoned shed, the words “function, malfunction” replaying themselves into a song only I could hear. It was odd to me even then how someone could leave their home behind, and how people like us could arrive and pretend we belonged.
without being an authentic representation of the place i would call home for nearly a year, this is pretty darn close to the well in my memory, even down to the truck that still now i maintain a passion to restore. i imagine a small garden once created is on the other side and growing fruit for the next inhabitants. i’d forgotten about that old truck, those broken windows and all that shade that kept me cool every time i ran away. the road running behind is a reminder that all shelter no matter how seemingly shattered, is still shelter.