My Book

Polly is life and death, mortality and immortality, flesh and spirit, furious hatred and hideous love. She can make all the sense and none at all and yet she finds herself not knowing and knowing everything. Things unfold before her and fold behind her, she is within and without and she does not know it. Nothing can be said yet. She will find a stubborn man who hides in the room with the great chest full wonder and terror, he loves her and she does not know it. She does not know. Something watches her, she does not know it. Not know it. It is her she does not know. It knows her. She knows nothing and nothing makes sense. Polly is not quite there.