Beneath the Suburbs

But it's back to art school for me. Struggle and arguments with mum, epiphanies reached, harsh words thrown, tempers lost. And the student has to migrate from his suburban blue-carpeted bedroom, has to cram his stuff into bags, stress himself out all over again.
The comfortable suburban master bedroom! From here I launch myself into arguments, hysterics, with my dark-haired mothers and sisters, they fling ultimatums at me, their faces bruised with mascara, they shriek or grunt with rage.
Rage, despair, violence. Always under the surface of the quiet suburbs, setting for the great melodramas of our time.
I pack my accredited paperwork and my pathetic schedule.
And in London a huge downpour ends the heatwave.