Emma Zanelli

You meet another day in which everything feels overwhelming and out of your control.

Breathing. An exhaustive endeavour.

Positive thinking? Not today.

Walking blindly down the street lost in a perilous fog, trying to make sense of it all, searching for purpose and reason on this blue marble doomed to be sucked up a vacuum hose.

What’s the point of anything?

Suddenly, you look up to see a stroller containing a small, furious chihuahua come barrelling toward you. Its human counterpart, swathed in fur and hairspray. Ten long pink talons that slice through the thick cloud of haze behind your eyes.

Maybe everything will be ok.