Friday, November 14, 2008


She’s wearing stone necklaces, silver bracelets, and eyeglasses. Her hair is grey streaked and long, as she rings up my stack of music biographies. She asks me if I need a bag, and I say No, don’t waste it. She said Appreciate your business. I 
I said I appreciate your tattoos, and she laughed.
I meant it. Her arms were covered in colorful tattoos. Her body was her canvas.

As I’m walking out the door saw a woman in front of me wearing a pink race for the cure t-shirt. I wanted to say, I walked in May. I have one in white.
 But I didn’t. The pink means she’s a

There are two women in one of my classes now.

 One has survived for years.

The other is surviving and battling her hair barely growing back as she goes through radiation now.

Another woman in one of my old classes was just beginning her battle. 

My two close family members are survivors.

There are survivors everywhere.

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