Dear Nanny,
All that glitters is not gold, you taught me that when I was seven.
Like an obedient girl, I stayed on my guard and let no one deceive me.
Nanny, I was always cautious.
But Nanny, I didn't know I was glitter too. Shiny, attractive, intriguing, that clings to you even after you dust it off, wash it off, scratch it off your skin. It leaves its traces. The dazzling glitter invites them in, but when there's no light left for it to shine, they realize it's not worthy.
Nanny people leave me when they realize I'm not gold.
Is there no one left who likes glitter anymore?
