A poem by Meg James, a second year Illustration student who has a keen hobby in writing.


The interior is the most important part of a house.

We all live in the interior. We thrive in the interior.

If there’s something that isn’t working for us, then we choose to adapt.

Buy a new lamp. Change the curtains.

But sometimes there’s a problem that can’t be solved quickly, like a broken boiler. Instead of fixing the problem we put on another jumper and close the windows. We ignore it, hope it goes away. It makes us a little mad.

Flip a table, smash a plate.

Fuck it, smash every single god damn plate we own.

Why do we have to live in this house? Everyone else’s house is doing just fine. They’ve got those lovely wooden shutters and a yellow front door. People stop to admire their house.

We assume that house has no problems at all. How could it when it looks so lovely? No cracks in the bricks, no uneven paint smears on the walls, no broken gutter. We assume the inside matches the outside.

We forget we cannot see through walls.

That’s the funny thing about exteriors. They’re the face value, the first impression and the mask we wear.

We forget that the interior is the most important part of the house.

Maybe it’s alright to have a faulty exterior.