Home is where your heart is, but when your bleeding heart is torn apart, your eyes are full of violence and your face is a grieving mask, where is your home? You keep wandering in an hostile world, sheltering yourself with whatever the last bombing left you. Somewhere they may call you refugee, if you are lucky enough, but will you be able to find a refuge from the memories of what you were and what they turned you into?
Text edited by Elia Russo.