This woman talk like she from so deep in the country she got corn growing in her shoes.

Truth. It feels cool, like water washing over my sticky-hot body. Cooling a heat that's been burning me up all my life. Truth, I say inside my head again, just for that feeling.

That's the way prayer do. It's like electricity, it keeps things going.

I'd cry, if only I had the time to do it.

Got to be the worst place in the world, inside a oven. You in here, you either cleaning or you getting cooked.

I don't know what to say to her. All I know is, I ain't saying it. And I know she ain't saying what she want a say either and it's a strange thing happening here cause nobody saying nothing and we still managing to have us a conversation

It can be really powerful to write something when youre sad.