She lived in exile. She had the feeling that either
she could die or become deathless. In the dictionary exile is the absence of
one’s country, prolonged and usually enforced. Her time for conceiving had passed.
Her exile was a perpetual absence of one’s self. She was literally melting away
slowly. The long hair dripping blackness concealed the eyes. It was a layer
between her and the rest, like some kind of second skin protecting and
isolating both the world from her and her from reality. Each past memory would
be slowly wrapped tight until it got meaningless, fictional fact; a detached
and empty presence. Like a growing dark wig the present time would gradually
take over… And she let it happen...
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