aspen-matis-memoir

Living as Wild Child, I could no longer be Debby Parker comfortably _ this name that I__ been given at birth that defined me before I__ had the chance to define myself.

Each year, Gracie Henderson moons a thousand strangers, collects their shocked faces in an annual photo album.

All I could think as he was speaking was that, if he touched me at all, all the miles I__ walked, the pain I__ felt, the beauty I__ drunken like milk, like good wine making me happy, the four million steps I__ taken, would all add up to nothing. They__ be stolen. They__ vanish like the teeth children lose when they get hit. Only after the blood was washed away would I see that they were gone.