Leonie Rowland reads an except from "The Dressmaker", forthcoming in Wrongdoing's first issue

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TEXT:

I met the dressmaker between the third and fourth floors of a museum. I was trying to make sense of it all—the artwork, the architecture, my own inadequacy—when he stepped into the lift wearing a white shirt and a pair of jeans, and I thought, this man will show me the impressionists.
“It’s like a labyrinth,” I said, gesturing to the map in his hands.

He pulled a piece of string from his pocket and said, “Use this”. When I dropped the end to the ground it came up to my waist—long enough to explore the lift without losing my way. I tied one end around my wrist and the other around his, and suddenly it was much longer, the length of the whole building. We stepped out together, and the ground stabilized.