TE16 Turkish Delight

Let Me Out Here, Please I can’t see anything. There are anxious voices, unfamiliar hands. It’s so cold. I’m being held upside down. I’m out of breath, I fill myself with air, it’s not enough. That hand again, invisible but tangible. It helps me breathe. I know it’s her but can’t tell anyone. They tuck me in with my mother. I look deep into her eyes. We’ll talk about it one day, that; at least, I can trust.

I’m born and primed to remember what must be forgotten. Or to never forget what needs to be remembered.

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