I learned early how to walk on water, to tread softly on unstable minds.
Drowning was never a worry in stormy times. My talents bought me new
layers of skin and enough excuses to ward off any rightful blame. I grew
up in a house with a dead garden, I never learned to walk on grass.
His pathetic need always made me feel slightly sick. A sweaty red face announced his intentions...just another language I'd picked up without ever meaning to. My pretending not to understand made him work harder and made me smile.
The dance was ungainly, unlovely and bladder- voidingly sad. Crying was a waste of precious water in these barren, faithless times.So grief took novel and extravagant forms. No expense was spared. No one was spared...Only the best rope was used. She swung smoothly till the very last. All money raised was spent.