Uncategorized

Tracing lines

By May 24, 2020 June 4th, 2020 2 Comments

joel-overbeck-amkdlZFdMiA-unsplash.jpg

“I see his awful, sad, pain-filled life and it breaks me. It is an indescribable pain to know that your child is living such a horrific existence and causing harm wherever he goes. How could it not be – even partially – my fault? I’m his mother and that’s where blame goes isn’t it?” A mother writes anonymously about how a beloved son became a violent adult.

I like to remember my son as he was at three, with his blond halo of curls and his cheeky smile, singing sweet songs to me while strumming a ukulele. I have a photo of him in my house from this time, it’s the picture of innocence. A small, new human looking up at me, his eyes full of trust. I look at him and I wonder how it all went so wrong. When my son was five, my husband left me for another woman.

rogue is a co-created space for media, art and thought. We’d love you to join us.

Monthly Subscription

€4/month

What you get:

  • access to all articles including our back catalog
  • four new pieces directly into your inbox every Sunday morning

Sign Up

Yearly Subscription

€45/year

What you get:

  • access to all articles including our back catalog
  • four new pieces directly into your inbox every Sunday morning

Sign Up

Already have an account? Login

2 Comments

Leave a Reply