Dear Child

by Romy Hausmann

The air just after it’s rained. The first and last squares of a bar of chocolate, which always taste the best. The aroma of freesias. David Bowie’s Low album. A curry sausage after a long night out. A long night out. The hum of a fat bumblebee. Everything the sun does, whether it’s rising, setting or just shining. A blue sky. A black sky. Any old sky.

untroubled and with all the freedom in the world, doing those lovely, silly things that life is made of.

‘But the truth is, tasteless clothes make a tasteless woman.’

You are the point of, and reason for, everything in my life.