Write about what disturbs you, particularly if it bothers no one else.

As children, we looked up to our maids and our nannies, who were playing in some ways the role of our mothers. They were paid to be nice to us, to look after us, teach us things and take time out of their day to be with us. As a child you think of these people as an extension of your mother.

And why? Because they are suffocating within the lines that define their town and their times. And sometimes lines are made to be crossed.

The day your child says she hates you, and every child will go through the phase, it kicks like a foot in the stomach.

Bosoms are for bedrooms and breastfeeding.

I always thought insanity would be a dark, bitter feeling, but it is drenching and delicious if you really roll around in it.

...My sister Doreena who never lifted a royal finger growing up because she had the heart defect that we later found out was a fly on the X-ray machine.