Tess inspiration. Dedicated to Tess.  

Finola and I have been fighting some existential truths since our 20th birthdays. We don’t know why, and we have lodged a formal complaint with our prospective higher powers. However, there is no self-certification for the troubles of life, and as such, we must firm it. We love cats. Maybe because they are allowed a nine times do-over in life. Whatever it is, they are symbols of something big to us.

This kind of took on a new meaning in the worst accommodation at the University on Thursday. A cat going by the name of ‘Martina’ was somewhat of a saviour to us. She was like Jesus but without the disciples and the attention seeking. It was a felt, untouchable thing. She meowed something to Finola that made her fall to her knees and start violently crying. I asked what it was but her eyes were full of dread and wonder and she couldn’t talk. Only convulse and wail. It was weird. Here was Martina licking her anus on the Halifax carpet and Finola weeping next to her as if I missed something and Jesus Christ had decided to have his second coming at postgraduate accommodation. Did the Lord take the shape of Martina or was Finola having a psychotic episode? Why am I in Halifax? Can I interrupt her chanting to ask to use her vape? Tess had said that everything happens for a reason. I guess like this article has no clear narrative direction, the answer is beyond me and in the paws of something else.

I am yet to contact Finola since she told me she had met god and everything else is meaningless now. She withdrew from Uni and is observing Buddhism in a Tibetan Monastery. I am left looking for Martina everywhere I go. We are, for better or worse, different people now. Hal and Eddie, this is why our attendance at The Lemon Press socials has been so awful. These are real photos of Martina, it’s up to you what you choose to believe.