I wondered what I thought I was burying.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Why do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled โenemy?
Everything in life is writable.
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.