I can see them. Even as she reads the sweat and tear-stained words, far from the ravaged home and family she describes. She speaks in measured tones which fill the hushed auditorium of the out of the way college that I attend. We are transfixed. She has lost everything. Afterwards, we go for a drink. She comes along and I wonder how she can, after all she was, and no longer is. She tells me, though I don't ask: "I have not truly lost them. They appear, every time I tell their story."
~ Fiction inspired by Andrew Wyeth's Christina's World ~
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