Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.

...seeing the way his trousers clung to those most English parts.

What your mind sees when you close your eyes marks the entrance to an endless universe: your imagination.

I was crying for the little girl I had been, who had withstood terrifying nightmares of death and blood and war and maiming. And when I had tried to share those horrors, the shock on my friends' faces had told me I was not normal, and I should keep my dreams to myself.

I__e come to accept the voices in my head_ I just wish they didn__ spit when they talk.

His was a great sin who first invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours.