I sit, cross my arms. It makes my breasts stick out a little. I remember the horror of them coming in, budding like little rocks, when I was ten. How those fleshy knots felt like a betrayal. Like someone had lied to me about what life would be. Like Mama hadn’t told me that I would grow up. Grow into her body. Grow into her.
Leonie resists change constantly. She does not know how to live in harmony. She only sees contrast. Existence is not so binary, rigid and definite. You cannot live between polar opposites unless you appreciate the space between.
