Her name was Lucy.
She disappeared one day, between le tigre references, bad french and stomach surgery. She said she was going and she left never to return.
She finished her story. I have not, but I've been thinking long and hard about censorship and why I do this and what it keeps me from and what it encourages,
And I've come to understand that same thing she was saying a year ago. She came out of surgery wanting to live, I've been trying to live for a while.
So I need to join her, in the realm of the finished.
I've my life ahead, just one more story, one more scar to finger in the dark.
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