When Women Were Birds - Terry Tempest Williams
Backward and forward: I have a friend who was once my sister. Now we hardly speak, but she often appears in my dreams. I think of her. The other day I found a beautiful letter she wrote. I miss her. Terribly. We were undone by a death; our relationship was its casualty. In deep pain, we killed each other with judgements so no memory of closeness would remain, and now I mourn another death, the death of a friendship, another loss, another wound, unspoken.
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