Stella scribbledin thick black textaacross half the pagesof my best storybook,filled with people who venturedwhere their hearts took them.Beautiful worlds beyond mine.

I’m justthe reason they married.Mum saysI was a surprise.Dad saysI was an accident.Truth is …I am their mistake.

It’s not about blood,”says Lucius. “It’s about who you shareyour life with.Where you feelyou really belong.

I want out of this place.With no reminders.”It stings -sulphur tearsin cinnamon rain.

One more year and I will be closer to wherever I’m going.

i miss my brother likethe sea would miss saltif that were taken away.

The true test is wonwhen being togetherwithout saying a wordis everything.

I’m all alone,fuming at myself,waving a great flagof failure.

There’re three reasonspeople get away from here:gone good, gone bad orgone dead.

It’s nice to think that picking uncertain paths may not necessarily alter their destination too drastically, simply the journey undertaken to reach it.

Growing up changes morethan playground gamesand body shapes.

Then she smiles, like it’sthe first time she’s seen sunafter a decade of winters.

Strange, isn’t it?” he asks.”Where life takes you and how much can change.

Instead,she’s as stillas a leaf-littered pond,dark water evaporating,waiting desperately for rain.

I walk the city, through its crush of people and its smells:body odour, rotting food, vomit and urine. A cocktail of oppression and freedom.

Things should have beenso differentto the way they arenow.