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I felt a powerful pang of relief that I wasn’t female. It seemed that being female meant to be prey, even among your own species.
and one strange naked one that looks like an uncooked chicken.
I will protect him, even as he continues to mercilessly torture himself by ingesting fruit. There is nothing I can do about that shit.
I cannot recommend this to you enough: find something that you believe in, right down deep in the depths of your silvery plumage, and then throw your heart at it, blood and valves and veins and all.
“Survivor,” but she told me she didn’t like it much. I asked her why and she said because she is a female and all females are survivors so it was massively redundant.
Trust, it turned out, was a very beautiful and fragile thing with a taste like wild raspberries and experienced only by the very brave.
Sometimes you can feel two very different things at once—both searing pain and joy, feelings as deep as the ocean.
remembered how Pressa told me that all females are survivors and you are no exception.
And my big journey, the one I slowly tell you as a bedtime story—along with The Hobbit because that’s a goddamned classic—is how I know what I’ve told you is true.
