The event that comes to mind doesn’t exactly inspire me at all. This event was reoccurring and terrifying for me as a child. Bedtime was not a moment where I got rest. Bedtime was actually the moment where I found myself running the most. I remember having nightmares every night in that house, no lights on in my bedroom, and sleeping with the door shut. During these moments there was always a particular group of people present. If clowns were not present, there were midgets, and sometimes it was a hybrid of both. I can’t describe a smell, but if fear had a scent that would be the one. I remember falling into bottomless pits, and waking up to realize that I’m still stuck in this black hole that my mom called “my room”. The memory of a child struggling to be freed still lingers around in my mind. The shadows of trees shaped like outreached hands coming through my window, and doors with no doorknobs. These images will be the inspiration for this series.