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People are just too hopeful, and sometimes hope is the biggest weapon of all to use against us. People will believe anything
Edwidge Danticat
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When you write, it’s like braiding your hair. Taking a handful of coarse unruly strands and attempting to bring them unity. Your fingers have still not perfected the task. Some of the braids are long, others are short. Some are thick, others are thin. Some are heavy. Others are light. Like the diverse women of your family. Those whose fables and metaphors, whose similes and soliloquies, whose diction and je ne sais quoi daily slip into your survival soup, by way of their fingers
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Perhaps there had been joy for them in finding that sugar could be made from blood
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Those who die young, they are cheated,
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