I Sew You

I remember the cold, damp floors of our apartment. The incessant squeaking of rats, the stench of decay. It was in this environment that my obsession was born.

I would spend hours dissecting the rodents, their tiny bodies a canvas for my curiosity. I'd sew their limbs back on in brutal positions, breathe life into inanimate objects. A hobby, a pleasure.

The line between creator and destroyer blurred. I was both God and Devil, giving life and taking it away.