Each reader has to find her or his own message within a book.

I am locked into the mirror and there is no door out.

I’m the girl who trips on the dance floor and can’t find her way to the exit. All eyes on me.

This is not our fight', the old man said. 'British or American, that is not the choice. You must choose your own side, find your road through the valley of darkness that will lead you to the river Jordan. . . Look hard for your river Jordan, my child. You'll find it.

So, she tells me, the words dribbling out with the cranberry muffin crumbs, commas dunked in her coffee.

Think about love, or hate, or joy, or pain- whatever makes you feel something, makes your palms sweat, or your toes curl. Focus on that feeling. When people don't express themselves, they die on piece at a time.

Bologna girl, that's me.