Code Name Hélène

by Ariel Lawhon

There is far more hidden inside my brain than in my backpack or purse.

I am a devoted fan of the male species. They are brave, brilliant, offer endless entertainment, are good for moving heavy objects, and make the act of procreation a great deal more enjoyable. I’d hate to see a world in which they did not exist. But sometimes they can be spectacular idiots.

The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.

Rage is an odd thing, not so different from grief in the way it catches you unaware and then explodes in your chest. It crashes against you like a wave and all I can think in this moment is that we are sitting here, watching this happen. Doing nothing.

There are some things that little eyes can never unsee, some moments that no mind, no matter how young or resilient, can ever forget.

Single women in the world learn this at an early age—more so when they travel alone and live alone and come home alone, every night, for years and years.

Terror is a strong thing. It comes upon you instantly and consumes all thought and reason.