There are women who love the women, but love the men more. They seem consoling and balletic, but are mask-less spectators proffering a speech about a pseudo notion of love towards women, while honoring men who cross-question the necessities of the same women they will forever claim they love. These women will conceal their emotions indicating any support for the woman with a past and a confession. Her confessions lie within the constructs of being believed and being somewhat forgiven by the women who needed her to retire from stories of abuse.
I’ll never forget Ms. Fitzpatrick’s facial expression when Romance asked her:
I hum the sound of God so that my spirit guides can hear me
