I think about the tracking of poisons or dyes in the body, Violet, how the colour blooms through the veins, how the pathways all light up. I try to understand what I was to you but it’s all tangled up. How trite it was, in the end, you playing at transcendence like it would save you from the little domesticities of your lot, the things you felt beneath you, the things that were only for women like me.
