Thursday, February 08, 2007


All that blood...What did Shakespeare said about it? All I can do is watch the red river spiraling on the floor. I can’t move. I can’t breath. He is in an absurd position and I can't help but think how it happens that he, so strong, lay like a rag doll, old and battled. Something within me aches with pain and I turn to look in the mirror to see a stranger looking back at me. She has purple bruises all over her face; her eyes are huge in a strange sort of way. It’s a cold look. Surprise lies beneath the surface; deeper awakes an iron will, strange to the weakness of her own body. I do not know how much time I spent looking at my own face without recollection. People will tell me, later, over and over again, that it was shock, but I don’t think so. The woman in the mirror is more resilient, stronger and colder than I. And she is just Born.

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