Description: Modern Day Mnemosyne | Performing Artist | Managing Director
Modern Day Mnemosyne | Performing Artist | Managing Director
There are words on the page, but I can’t actually read any of them. My legs tremble and I sway softly in the rocking chair, attempting to soothe myself. My tiny hands are moist with fear, gripping the edges of the book.
A thunder clap breaks the silence, the smell of desert rain flooding my bedroom as a storm comes in. I don’t even flinch because my nervous system is already activated beyond its capacity. Fight-flight has become a state of being. The chair rocks and I slip away, into the shadows. I grow small, taking up almost no space at all. Finally, peace. I have willed myself into non-existence once again. I am seven years old and this is what it’s like to visit my father’s home.