I Do Not Believe In Evil- I

God, I Hate My Family, These People I Never Chose To Love, But Love All The Same.

To Be Able To Have The Space To Sit Down And Write Has Always Been My Central Policy.

I Am A Trembling Mess From Hip To Knee. There Is A Terrible Heat, A Looseness In My Innards That Makes Me Want To Dig My Fists Between My Thighs. It Is A Confusing Feeling - Somewhere Between Diarrhoea And Sex - This Grief That Is Almost Genital.

There's Quite A Big Gap When It Comes To That Dual Identity Of Mother And Child, Or Even A Pregnant Woman, Or A Nursing Woman. It Kind Of Begs The Question Of That Very Strong Western Idea Of The Individual Self.

I Think You Know Everything At Eight. But Is Is Hidden From You, Sealed Up, In A Way You Have To Cut Yourself Open To Find.