From my Memory Palace performance, a piece inspired by some of my script in a culminated hanging form.
When I was in seventh grade I drew a picture of my door handle creating chains around my wrist because I was scared to go home. Ironically, the chains have detached from my arm, and instead are attaching the door to the doorframe.
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"Look at you! You’re withering away." I look down at my arms, and sure enough, all the water is leaving my skin and I am starting to dust away. I raise my arms in protest, but they are blown off my body, right as a kookaburra crashes into me. We are melded together as my body turns into clay. I whisper my final words through cracked lips—just…do it…. And I am preserved, as the winged victory of Samothrace.
