The Urge To Convert Experience Into A

It Didn't Matter That I Wore Clothes From Sears; I Was Still Different. I Looked Different. My Name Was Different. I Wanted To Pull Away From The Things That Marked My Parents As Being Different.

There Were Times Ruma Felt Closer To Her Mother In Death Than She Had In Life, An Intimacy Born Simply Of Thinking Of Her So Often, Of Missing Her. But She Knew That This Was An Illusion, A Mirage, And That The Distance Between Them Was Now Infinite, Unyielding.

Somehow, Bad News, However Ridden With Static, However Filled With Echoes, Always Manages To Be Conveyed.

War Will Bring The Revolution; Revolution Will Stop The War.

She Has The Gift Of Accepting Her Life.