I was so horribly tired of seeing that old journal entry where I wrote about the colour of my prom dress!!

Now I give you, and most importantly (...) myself, these:

Virginia Woolf spoke of dead friendships as of young soldiers killed before their time, resting preserved but empty in sand dunes.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau is teaching me how to nurse my need of love.

Locke sparked the feminist fire in me.

I dissect my intolerance toward my mother through Kafka's short stories.

I vote.

Now let us move forward, backed by virtue and spurred on by science.

xx