October 12, 2010
For the first 10 minutes, she may as well be peeking at me through her fingers, as if viewing a scary movie. She has no idea where to start and says so. Often. No idea how to say it. Even so, she speaks hungrily, like the smallest kid in a big family who has to rush for the food lest she be left with nothing. Soon, however, her words, no longer as jagged as the first few solid shifts of an avalanche, assume a liquid form, whooshing with the kind of force that causes in white-water rafters an unparalleled thrill.