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- She had dinner alone every night at the Le Tire Bouchon. She was alone in her mind, but never at her table.
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- She was not afraid of dark tunnels of the city. She could relate to them, full of darkness but with the hope that the end leads somewhere better.
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- It was the only book she ever read, over and over again. She would leave it in different corners of the city and hope the next day she could find it. It was one of the games she played by herself.
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- She often left her door open hoping that, like how it happens in her favourite book, she meets “the one”.
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- No matter how much she hated her parents, she still wanted to die like they did, together.
She couldn’t tell if it was a desire or a need. She didn’t know if she needed to celebrate this side of her or blame her parents. Who was she to blame and whom would she blame, the one that incestually took away her dandelion innocence or the one who taught her to use lust as a tool, as a beacon of power?
She had dinner alone every night at the Le Tire Bouchon. She was alone in her mind, but never at her table. She would be coy and avoid eye contact because she knew that that’s what they wanted, to let them believe they were the predator and not the prey.
