Most nights she went with the moon, and when it was round she stayed in my biggest bedroom and wouldn’t answer the thing that asked her to let it out(let you out from where?let me out from the small, the hot, the take me out of the fire i am ready i am hard like the stones you ate, bitter like those husks)the moonlight striped her, marked out places where the whispering thing would slip through and she would unfold.
-Helen Oyeyemi
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