Home

Drawn to the lights, the twinkling displays, she cannot look away. She is stuck in a honey trap of her own creation; born out of habits she practices in shame. She did not intend to be here again. Another night spent looking at the light, the sounds, colour. Moving faster. Ever quicker. If she keeps looking at the light, this little handheld lamp, she is safe. The lights are moving quicker now. Her thumb moves up the light, changing it again. Her time is slipping away under its…

I open TikTok to a woman doing a ‘Mob Wife’ makeup tutorial. I scroll, finding someone decorating their house to be more in line with their ‘Cottagecore’ aesthetic. The next, an advert selling me Office Siren® glasses. Clean Girl. Quiet Luxury. Fairycore. Old Money. It never ends. The spinning wheel of an algorithm cycling through these cores until I linger on a video long enough for it to go yes, that is who she wants to be. Lets feed her more. And feed it does, the word synonymous…