Anika Carpenter

We gave up on protests, turned to retail therapy. We shopped for matching green pantsuits, orange backpacks, purple beanies. In uniform, party-bright outfits we travelled to Manchester, Liverpool, London; embedded ourselves in the grey-brown hum of city rush hours. We stood desperate-still in the hurried flow of commuters, absorbed the brush and bump of shoulders. […]

The hair tumbling down Effie’s back is a rough sketch of a waterfall. She yanks out strands from where it won’t show, and with a contraband needle embroiders my pyjamas with Hydrangeas   ̶  rectifies Institutional Blue with clouds of blowsy white flowers that speak of thirst. They are a nod to our rain-soaked walks in