She was looking at Amanna. And her face was parched. She was scared – and for once it wasn’t at me. I felt a strong urge, a strong, powerful angry...feeling of protection, for Lynn. And then I looked at my sister. And felt violation there. Like nobody had a right to do *that*… to my family. To me. To anybody I cared about. Amanna glanced at me. At once the stone moved. Her eyes were wet and she drank me in for a moment. As if she was a dying flower in a wasteland and had felt a drip of water. . . HEDONISTIC GIRLWe seek ourselves in metaphors,Never knowing who or what we areUntil we learn who and what we are not,And, bereft of the opposite sex,I wonder as I wander, seeking, on my quest,A mirror to mirror my true soul,A fountain of the deep that is deeper yetThan the soul I keep, a looking-glassThat does not look upon a topsy-turvyWorld of white rabbits and caterpillars,But it is too much, I think, to ask,And I simplify, hearing, smelling, tasting,Touching, blind to the rest of. More

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