Jin

Old things, discarded, forgotten, grandmother, rot, distortion, a smile, a dancer slipping slowly spiralling into madness, a dark clown, a shadowed church, a marionette controlled by strings, prey being hunted, a porcelain doll shattered to pieces and patched together, though never quite holding. Silent screams, a stitched-up rag doll, a dark forest, a tiny gravestone, romantic and death. From birth to corpse, an incomplete life as if wrenched forcibly from the womb, accompanied by the corpse-walker’s hollow, cold footsteps. It breaks from its shell… “it” arrived in this world, a world that never truly belonged to it.