For years, there were things I told myself at night, and excuses I made whenever I felt like it. This is the story of how I reconciled my relationship with animals.
When I was small, I watched a boy rip the legs from a spider one by one, as if her fragile body were a forget-me-not.
It wasn’t the first time violence had broken out somewhere between the sandpit and the dress-up box. The boy seemed to enjoy breaking things. I’d often see him chasing pigeons with shovels, or hopscotching in the snail patch, shells crackling and popping beneath…
Words: Aimee-lee Abraham | Images: Courtesy of the artist & Metro Pictures
A woman kneels on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, hovering over a bag of spilled groceries. She’s gazing up at an unknown figure with fury in her eyes. You can already predict what happens next.
A girl stands alone at the side of the road, shivering beneath an ominous sky. You could have sworn you’ve crossed paths before, but you can’t fathom where or when. You have no idea where she’s headed or what her intentions are — whether she’s about to run joyously into the…