flâneur

Childhood – died | Kenneth Sun

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Childhood— died again on a Thursday. My father’s funeral was ten years ago yesterday. Yesterday, I went back to that bleached, empty old house. The air smelled stale and metallic, the walls were painted a hostile maroon and echoed back the silence, and the doors' hinges made an awful, dreadful sound like a sickly goat being dragged to its grave. Furniture after furniture vanished in the wake of my father, then the purple bruises that I used to cover with makeup, followed by my memory, until eventually there were only four corners and a wall where he splashed crimson.This was written in imitation of Victoria Chang's "Obit".

Childhood— died again on a Thursday. My father’s funeral was ten years ago yesterday. Yesterday, I went back to that bleached, empty old house. The air smelled stale and metallic, the walls were painted a hostile maroon and echoed back the silence, and the doors' hinges made an awful, dreadful sound like a sickly goat being dragged to its grave. Furniture after furniture vanished in the wake of my father, then the purple bruises that I used to cover with makeup, followed by my memory, until eventually there were only four corners and a wall where he splashed crimson. This was written in…

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