Who are you
when you drop the boxes
you stuff yourself into:
As I glanced up from the kitchen counter and he laid the small package down, I felt a bubble of excitement run through my body. “It’s here!” I thought. This Flesh These Bones is my second book and it almost didn’t make it to print.
Because when I was in my teens and twenties out at night in my sleepy suburban neighbourhood, I would sandwich my keys between my fingers as a weapon. Just like the girls were taught in school. Just in case.
Because I’ve been told – one too many times – that I’d be prettier if I smiled.
Because I can’t go for an early morning jog without being acutely aware of my surroundings at all times.