The kind of girl who doesn’t erase or cross-out. Her form of editing is purging (destroying). Eliminate the mistake and start from scratch. Reminds herself every day the imperfections make her beautiful. No one notices the solder holding together the mosaic.
They notice the broken bits.
But she wouldn’t be the phoenix without the self-immolation; she would just be a sparrow.
The haunting fact is that eraser marks remain on a page like a blemish on a Mona Lisa, a god with a limp, tarnish on a gilded mirror (reflections of flaws and failures and warped glass distorting all those echoed within its confines).
So, she turns to fire as a form of destruction & creation. There is no beginning without an end. And all creation myths start the same, In the beginning
(Can a human being ever begin again? Start over?)
The nuns in school taught her about original sin, the fall of Adam, so how could we start over? There’s no such thing as a blank slate, a clean canvas.
By our nature, we’re marred and yet (and yet), we hope for the dignity of purification.
Eugenics is only a sin when performed on others. Hers was a form of self-expression (a suicidal cleansing without the aftermath of a funeral). I bore witness to what happens when you start over, when you eliminate.
Instead of manuscripts in the author’s home, I found debris (paper sludge at the bottom of garbage cans and mildewing fruit stewing in the compost). We feast on their flaws, and yet (and yet), we hope for the dignity of purification.
Rummage around and you’ll find bones in the ash. A fireplace filled with torched keepsakes and memorabilia from a life forgotten.
If you want to start over, you must burn the evidence of the past. Eliminate the mistake and start from scratch.