Memory's so treacherous. One moment you're lost in a carnival of delights with poignant childhood aromas, the flashing neon on puberty, all that sentimental candyfloss The next, it leads you somewhere you don't want to go. . Somewhere dark and cold, filled with the damp ambiguous shapes of things you'd hoped were forgotten.
I'm not fighting for justice. I am not fighting for freedom. I am fighting for my life and another day in the world here.