We Create The Illusions We Need To

When I Dream, I Dream Of Him.

All Morning, Spence Has Been A Well-oiled Machine Of Activity. Everyone Doing Her Bit, Quietly And Efficiently. It's Strange How Deliberate People Are After A Death. All The Indecision Suddenly Vanishes Into Clear, Defined Moments--changing The Linens, Choosing A Dress Or A Hymn, The Washing Up, The Muttering Of Prayers. All The Small, Simple, Conscious Acts Of Living A Sudden Defense Against The Dying We Do Every Day.

This Is How The Fire Starts. This Is How We Burn.

The Corporation Would Like To Apologize For The Preceding Pages. Of Course, It's Not All Right For Girls To Behave This Way. Sexuality Is Not Meant To Be This Way - An Honest, Consensual Expression In Which A Girl Might Take An Active Role When She Feels Good And Ready And Not One Minute Before. No. Sexual Desire Is Meant To Sell Soap. And Cars. And Beer. And Religion.

Write Like It Matters, And It Will.