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No one was more dangerous to a woman than a man who’d once professed to love her.
This is an interesting one. Not just men, but everyone who ever professed to love us holds power over us.
“Everyone has hidden corners of their life, even the people we think we know inside out.”
It was too bad you couldn’t arrest people for being psychopaths. Because many psychopaths ended up never committing a single crime, instead becoming successes in fields that rewarded a lack of empathy.
The bitter truths of our society
“Yes, I do.” She’d loved Edward, and so she’d tried to love London, too. Just as she’d tried not to miss the water that crashed so hard against the rocks that it sent up a white spray, the grit of sand between her toes, and the green, the endless dark green that could never be tamed. All things she’d wanted to escape as a girl. All things she’d ached for desperately when surrounded by red double-decker buses and stately museums, designer shops and theaters that glittered, the civility of it threaded by a constant buzz of humanity.
No one was born without the capacity for joy in the soul. Life leached it out of them, drop by drop.
Sometimes, life is like acid. dripping harsh realities over our dreamscapes.
Homes were where people let down their guards and invited the monsters in.
Sometimes, oblivion was a gift.
The way it had been displayed, the way it had been discarded, that was a thing too many men had done to too many women across time.
It was as if Miriama hadn’t been there at all, as if this had been a black dream that was about to fade.
“I want nothing to do with you,” she said calmly in Māori. “I have no forgiveness in my heart for you and I never will. Forget you ever had a daughter.”
Sometimes, people don't deserve forgiveness. And its okay to not give it to them.
Her wings unfolded inside her as the rain hit her own face, and with the cold droplets came a surge of music, pure and rising in a crescendo. Her art had never been a creature of sunlight.
