my words

I’ve put a pdf of the book i wrote 2 years ago on my blog i felt it was fitting to show though.its my story of how i had to fight all my life the felling of always being lost and not fitting in any where caused by years of abuse.im back again with my thoughts [art] back in Easterhouse painting with a lens captureing memmories with a frame of the pain i left with as i moved to Darwen back when i was 16 year old.my book gives the reason why i left Easterhouse and an insight to why i feel i need to keep revisiting the streets i waked as a wean the streets that stand today with no tennament flats on both sides leaving the sight to vast empty spaces once filled with the voices and screams that memories only see now.i can remember every close to the flats all the short cuts through the scheme that where learned as you had to as a wean just incase.when i look at the photos i have took so far i see that bit more as i see the flats where they stood back in the 80s and 90s so many good memmories that i have blanked out for years post tromatic stress docent give you a choice what memories you keep when it trys to blank the scars.is this why i keep revisting the streets of the scheme?

am i trying to find these memories ?

am i looking for answers ?

am i still lost and will find nothing ?

questions are always in my head to why i feel the need to revisit a place with so much pain that has burned out my soul a place that gives you a shiver every time the taxi exits the motor way and turns left in to AGGRO where your wee ma and family still live.could it be that I’m captureing these memories frame by frame giving me the choice to when i look at them and chose to face them as an artist ? and not lee who walked the streets all those years ago.

[my words lee smillie]

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