“There's no way to know what makes one thing happen and not another. What leads to what. What destroys what. What causes what to flourish. Or die. Or take another course. What if I forgave myself? What if I was sorry? But if I could go back in time, I wouldn't do a single thing differently.[...] What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was? It took me years to be the woman my mother raised. It took me 4 years, 7 months and 3 days to do it, without her. After I lost myself in the wilderness of my grief, I found my own way out of the woods.”

فیلمبرداری بالاخره تموم شد و من رو با یک دنیای جدید آشنا کرد.

You were the better part
Of every bit of beating heart that I had
Whatever I had
I finally sat alone
Pitch black flesh and bone
Couldn't believe that you were gone

I saw the part of you
That only when you're older, you will see too
You will see too
I held the better cards
But every stroke of luck has gotta bleed through

I am no doubt not the only one who writes in order to have no face. Do not ask me who I am and do not ask me to remain the same: leave it to our bureaucrats and our police to see that our papers are in order.

-Michel Foucault