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“Sisters of the torn shirts. Sisters of the chase around the desk, casting couch, hotel room, file cabinet. Sisters dragging shattered dreams, bruised hopes, ambitions abandoned in the dirt. Sisters fishing one by one in the lake of shame. Hooks baited with fear always come back empty. Truth dawns slow when you've been beaten and lied to, but it burns hard and bright once it wakes. Sisters, drop everything. Walk away from the lake, leaning on each other's shoulders when you need the support. Feel the contractions of another truth ready to be born. Shame turned inside out is rage.” — Laurie Halse Anderson
Sisters of the torn shirts.
Sisters of the chase around the desk, casting couch, hotel room, file cabinet.
Sisters dragging shattered dreams, bruised hopes, ambitions abandoned in the dirt.
Sisters fishing one by one in the lake of shame.
Hooks baited with fear always come back empty.
Truth dawns slow when you've been beaten and lied to, but it burns hard and bright once it wakes.
Sisters, drop everything.
Walk away from the lake, leaning on each other's shoulders when you need the support.
Feel the contractions of another truth ready to be born.
Shame turned inside out is rage.