Bringing a gift is always a great way to start. When I walk through your front door and hold my present up to you your eyes widen and we spend an hour or two consuming it until we can’t take anymore.
One of your rooms features a shrine that I casually inspect. Picking up stones and feathers and turning them over in my hand. And the other’s room is full of patchwork skeletons. Taxidermy turned sculpture. You walk me to your backyard and pick a beautiful red tomato off the vine for me. You show me your quails, your guinea pigs and your basil by the spotlight of a torch.
I don’t sleep with you. I sleep under you. You on the top bunk and me on the bottom as if we were sisters. We talk about our lovers and our mothers before the conversation finds it’s own end and we drift to sleep.
I dream that you have organised a series of surprises for me. One of which is our friend’s, who create a cotton candy pantomime for us. I am so excited that I exclaim ‘Oh, no way!’ out loud to you.
Words by Cara Fox
Photography by Douglas E Pope