Girl, Potentiated
I used to live in potential. It was how I learned to thrive. To sparkle.
People would meet me. Struggling. With a snotty child at my hip, washing diapers by hand. Making biscuits in the kitchen with camping gear. Sometimes in the dark, because the power was shut off. And they would marvel at how such a girl, a machine of practical survival technique, could talk like this. About Mozart’s Requiem and Balzac, about Liberation Theology and the X-Men. People were always amazed by the fact of my potential. It was a cheap gimmick...
Read more at my blog: Red Zorah