Joyce Nancy

In the morning I have great and impossible aspirations. The first rush of caffeine hits and I am teeming, an overflowing bouquet of ideas, flowers pushing up and out of vases. Today is the day.

The first night I arrive absolutely terrified. They tell me I can smoke a cigarette in the outdoor cage. I see faces cloaked in darkness, intermittently lit by fireworks. It’s the fourth of July.