There was one thing my murderer didn't understand; he didn't understand how much a father could love his child.
Alice SeboldRead
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There was one thing my murderer didn't understand; he didn't understand how much a father could love his child.
Before, they had never found themselves broken together. Usually, it was one needing the other but not both needing each other, and so there had been a way, by touching, to borrow from the stronger one's strength.
Sometimes the dreams that come true are the dreams you never even knew you had.
Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.
My name is Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered.
At fourteen, my sister sailed away from me into a place I’d never been. In the walls of my sex there was horror and blood, in the walls of hers there were windows.
If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.
I had rescued the moment by using my camera and in that way had found how to stop time and hold it. No one could take that image away from me because I owned it.
Each time I told my story, I lost a bit, the smallest drop of pain. It was that day that I knew I wanted to tell the story of my family. Because horror on Earth is real and it is every day. It is like a flower or like the sun; it cannot be contained.
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