Notes on an Execution

by Danya Kukafka

We Are All Rabid.

This was how it always went, wasn’t it? All those women who’d come before her, in caves and tents and covered wagons. It was a wonder how she’d never given much thought to the ancient, timeless fact. Motherhood was, by nature, a thing you did alone.

We are created by what has happened to us, combined with who we choose to be.

I promise I’ll be better, you say, your voice booming sorry. Give me one more chance.

This is a book for the women who survive.