In a mall, pressing against those glass exteriors fronting numerous interchangeable shops; it could be an emporium dedicated to exclusive Provençal face cream- whatever, I stare inside like a piqued Martian. Part of the reason I’m outside involves exogenous factors: born into a small family flat, rented by unhappy parents, battling, blaming, adventurously polygamous, accusatory, uneducated, inarticulate, unconfident yet enthusiastically domestically violent, unskilled migrants, without faith, property, land, gold reserves, fine art collectables, off-shore bank accounts, cash savings, family assistance, or career prospects- showing little love, or interest, in my siblings or myself; separating before I graduated from primary school. In the fullness of time, unprepared, socially disconnected, & without any access to material resources, I set out to survive, &, as much as possible, avoid repeating the miseries experienced whilst resident with my progenitors. Sounds like a plan, but this leads to the endogenous factors i.e. being an average person, minus star qualities, & incapable of earning much beyond what is required just to keep a roof over my head (which technically means I am inside, but you likely understand my drift). I’ll add mention of my dandruff issues, & man-boobs, & we’ve pretty much covered everything.
Story: Evan Findlay Hay
Window Shopping with l’Étranger was originally published as Discover Me on Burnt Breakfast
Art: Nails Nathan