... Such misery in the face of the girl unscrewing the hinges on the doors. She wants to dismantle everything - especially herself. I would like to put an arm on her. But she would surely shatter into a million tiny pieces like Willy Wonka's tele-portable chocolate bar and end up in a dusty pile on the floor.
She would hate to know she was my muse. But I have seen night-time things she doesn't know about.
I saw her first. I struggled with her body when it refused to sit straight.
Her happiness and her misery are the same. No wonder she can't differentiate.
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