Head of Heaven

Photo by Meelan Bawjee on Unsplash

I built Heaven when I was four. My parents were fighting and I could not bear it, so I went in the cupboard in my room, closed the door, pressed my hands hard against my ears until they hurt, and I closed my eyes. It all came to me instinctively. At first, it was barely anything; a few apple trees, a strawberry field, two or three dogs and endless sunshine. I spent an hour in this place, climbing the trees, picking the strawberries, playing with the dogs. When I left, my parents had stopped fighting. Read more →