I’m watching Leo, squirming up to the arm in the sofa to get comfy, watching Axels adventures on youtube. The love I share with Leo getting deeper into my bones as I look at him this morning after last night in A&E.

The feeling when from my “err”, on the phone my mum realises ive forgotten her birthday is coming up..

A twitter thread on the anarchist history of mayday - as memories of drinking coke in Holgate working men’s club flicker then go, Nanna smith sat opposite as i filmed her in her armchair, telling me not to be too nice..

I Drop down in to my body and the room, unaware how I might look from the outside disappeared, feeling lithe, primed.

Memories of last night at A&E, his puking translucence onto the crocodiles on his jumper twenty seconds after I left him for the vending machine ten feet away. Him charming the life out of the nurses. Worrying in parallel with the other Mums and Dads, all loving our kids and frustrated that we’re still waiting, hoping we’re not urgent enough to be seen sooner.

My body is a growing, decaying ground to all these ideas, emotions and memories as they burrow through me. Their markings from the spaces they came through first, a camouflage blended of skin and intestines, 90s geometric wallpaper and 2000’s beige sofas.

The uncertain tension of what to say when someone at work is expecting me to be as annoyed as them when I’m not..

These thoughts worm their way through generations of people. Their patterns emerging again after hibernation decades later, adapting to the lives of sons and daughters, through relationships and situations they know how to play. When I think of my most difficult relationships, it isn't who the person is now, but something older passed through their parents and their parents that I’m struggling with.