The great unwritten
“… So I stopped, took stock and finally asked why? Why was it than in my Donnie Darkoesque manner I kept on being persued by images of pain and suffering. Why when I closed my eyes did I see seas of blood stretching as far as they eye could see and pale flesh tattered and torn rising from it. Why fundamentally did I feel broken and torn and what’s with the wings? No Angel I, I thought and yet Devil neither though I felt the pull from both. Instead merely a weak woman trying to pick her way through a world which she found didn’t really make sense in any great way and that was futilely without meaning. I stopped and thought of all this and cried and laughed.”