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“I forgot my voice; I had no language in which to transform my pain. My book of voice and languages dropped to the floor and I was unable to pick it off. I saw it drown in the river of fear and be swept up by the rain. I needed a language to describe my death. I needed a howl; a cry.” — Zeenat Ansari
I forgot my voice; I had no language in which to transform my pain. My book of voice and languages dropped to the floor and I was unable to pick it off. I saw it drown in the river of fear and be swept up by the rain. I needed a language to describe my death. I needed a howl; a cry.