"At some point, the paper-thin cracks began to form and reality pushed through, all claws and teeth and hatred. Hope and belief exited, leaving a vacuum to pull all the dark things in. I wanted to run away. I wanted to book the first flight home to Mum and Dad in the middle of nowhere, on their sheep farm in rural Wales where nothing ever happens.
Nowhere else felt safe, or far enough away from this country that I suddenly hated deep down in the marrow and the cell and the push of blood inside me. What kind of country wants to be ‘great’, I thought? What kind of a country is willing to pay for it with blood?"
Full article published in Standard Issue magazine here.