The idea that we are surrounded by secret undercurrents that shape our interactions is appealing and depressing in an equal fashion. Appealing because there are mysteries to be uncovered, intimacies to be shared.
What you think is normal might be very strange to others. You emulate certain behaviours. When you become a teenager, you start to compare yourself even more.
You will never know my best-kept secret. I’m almost certain that it is not shareable — you can’t push your thumbs into it and hand out its segments.
When I was a little girl, everyone around me believed that sex was a sin.
It clicks in my head like magic, like a small lamp switching on in the corner of the stage, outside the spotlight.