one of them is an Italian girl who's
brunette and relentlessly pursues freedom for women
one of them is a green eyed poet and tactical expert with a bad mannered cat named Oden
one of them is a tall
brunette blue eyed Amazon who moves in a blur and loves forever
one of them is a Russian sniper who longs to spend her time in a warmer climate
one of them is a man who lives in the desert with his dog and who smokes cigars on the porch
one of them is a ballerina who danced in a strip club but has gone missing
one of them is an native American who is a tracker but he longs to be a Healer
one of them is his grandmother, who is a Spirit Woman who sings her history
one of them is a girl who sleeps beneath a willow, where faeries and pixies watch over her
one of them is the rudest awfullest funniest Aussie that god ever made, and he's gone forever
one of them is a
blonde who has her instruction manual tattooed on her inner thigh
one of them is a Canadian photographer who taught me to weave
one of them is a professor in Vienna who loves history almost as much as he fears for his family
one of them is a sickly wealthy man who loves women, knowing them and yet still loving
one of them is a dog who stays close, always
one of them is a
brunette vampire who loves art and fashion and spins while she laughs
one of them is a tall thin black American who once was an elderly English spy
one of them is a Russian girl who owns a car, who takes summer drives to Finland, sweating
one of them is an Aussie protector who once was a twin, knows my heart, and urges me to do more
one of them is a short thin small breasted
blonde who makes the best jane face ever
one of them is her amazingly intelligent boyfriend, who i love because he ignores me
one of them is an Afrikaans psycho who has 'how do you like me now?' tattoo'd on her forearm
one of them is a girl with the best nose a human ever had, who lives in my heart and head
one of them is a tiny
blonde girl, who holds my keys, keeps my secrets, sits at a keyboard night and day, longs to be free of her fears and so writes them away, who dreams of zombies and horses, who has hair that angels would die for, who lives through woven tapestries of love, and lust, and death and cries to be read.
they are all here, they always will be.
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