“They overlap. They mingle, and fizz. That’s chemistry. That’s true love. I write love letters to not one, but two inanimate objects. I look out my window and wish I were moved, or moving, at least, like I’m on a train. I wished for a safe space but in London it can sometimes feel like a dream. I want to belong, and find a pocket I can grow into, and under, and into, and most accurately, beside.”