The ‘ The Storm Coming’  collection is inspired by Marco’s story. This is a beautiful and inspiring story and it's written by a person very special to me.

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Marco's story 

 

"Smouldering ashes fall on the dirt stained, once green, carpet. Marco picks up his mother’s bud and puts it out. She’s out cold again, something he was waiting for. Her face etched out sharply, pockmarked, the “poison” adding a lot more years on this woman lying unconscious on her couch.

 

The kid drags his feet on the floor as he slowly moves towards the door. He knows that his mother won’t be waking up any time soon but, he’s careful anyway. A crisp, cold morning air surrounds the entire Baltimore “Projects” area. Clouds open up to make room for the comfortably deceiving sun shine. It’s barely the end of October but you can already sense an early winter’s bite. Trees gave up their summer foliage prematurely this year. It’s as if they’ve decided to call upon an untimely death.

 

Marco’s going on his mission today, Marco’s a soldier. Marco is 8. A reverberating silence stands witness to the events unfolding this morning down in the “Pits”. He slowly closes the door behind him. ‘Yo, Lil’ Man come here’. Marco turns to see one of the usual “players” pointing his finger calling him over. ‘Yo mama’s out again huh?’. The kid nods. ‘The fuck ya’ up to this early boy?, ‘Hey, listen I need ya’ later, drop by, I gotta show ya’ something’. ‘Okay’, says Marco, then swiftly gets down stairs. He takes in a deep breath from the cold fresh morning air. An overwhelming amount of feelings suffocate him. It sinks. Marco’s really focused on his mission. Last night’s downpour left quite a mark on the surrounding area. It was the crowning conclusion to a rather wet week. 

 

The soil is drenched with the water that has been spouting on it for the past 7 days. He runs across the “Pits”, splashing the mud, going past the building corners where dope is sold, going past the centre where the “players” hang-out on their swings, going past the main exit heading towards East Baltimore’s Towers. ‘Hey Marco!’, he stops and turns on his heels. ‘Oh, hey Lindsay’. She is one of his best friends, like the big sister he wished he had. ‘Listen, I’ve got somewhere to be’, Marco says with a panting voice. ‘Oh, is that right?, Where you gotta be Lil’ Man?’, squeaks Lindsay with her usual sassy attitude. Before she gets another chance to question him, Marco cuts her off, ‘Ma’ business!’, he yells back as he continues his run towards the Towers.Shoes are full of mud from all the careless free running, kids will be kids. Blind Old Man is waiting for Marco at the Tower’s entrance. But the kid is too excited by the promise of his mission to even mind him. ‘Little Man, you should go back to your mother now’, mumbles Blind Old Man. Marco briefly stops to listen. ‘A random effect to a premeditated cause... nothing more than an unpredictable reaction to a detailed action’, whispers the Old Man. ‘I ain’t going back there’, says the kid, then runs into the tower entrance and takes the elevator up to the top floor. 

 

As he lingers right on the edge of East Baltimore’s Northern Tower a sharp sensation of deep satisfaction pierces his senses. It numbs him. A light of many colours and shapes… an uncanny but delicious feeling nonetheless. It’s all very real as he steps off the edge. Marco is on his mission today, Marco is a soldier. Marco is flying."

 

Oana Ciobanu