And so they asked her to state her name; she told them it was not relevant. Her age, useless. Now what did she like to do? She liked to cry. Salty water leaking out of her, red tears down her arms. She liked to cry. It made her feel simply ALIVE.
When asked what she thought of herself she stayed silent. When asked if she scared herself she replied yes. Did she love herself? No. And what about the world? It was all relative.
Finally she was asked on her odd behavior. Her reply was simply, “I am not the kind of person I would ever want to meet. I am not the kind of person I would ask to know the name of.”