I Try To Write Something That Would

Now, About That Mulatto Teacher And Me. There Was No Love There For Each Other. There Was Not Even Respect. We Were Enemies If Anything. He Hated Me, And I Knew It, And He Knew I Knew It. I Didn't Like Him, But I Needed Him, Needed Him To Tell Me Something That None Of The Others Could Or Would.

Question Everything. Every Stripe, Every Star, Every Word Spoken. Everything.

The Mark Of Fear Is Not Easily Removed.

...my Heart May Have Been In It But My Soul Was Not.

We Looked At Each Other, And I Could See In Those Big Reddened Eyes That He Was Not Going To Scream. He Was Full Of Anger - And Who Could Blame Him? - But He Was No Fool. He Needed Me, And He Wanted Me Here, If Only To Insult Me.