Leather and Alcohol.

I grew up in a world of words and pages plastered to walls of rooms. This is part of my story.

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I was 56 years old when they found me. I was a fugitive, a hider, and they found me hidden in a black room with a black door and black walls. It was a square room, but it wasn't painted black. I had written everything I could remember on those walls, over and over again. I was there to forget it, but I couldn't. It was against every single fibre in my body to forget those words, the little words that had been repeated over and over to me as a child. Those lines, repeated in a rhythm like a horse's feet pounding on a dusty, unmade road at a quick, sharp canter. 

I spoke to myself a lot, especially because I was alone. You could probably call me crazy, but what else is a woman supposed to do when she's forcibly in hiding because of the words in her mind and the tongue in her mouth? They put me here to keep the words that were plastered in a book hidden from sight, and they were right to; not even I can see it now. I might as well be blind when the words can't light my way. 

I would often look back at my life and regret things; free love in a travelling community, pregnancy, sexual deviants at every turn whenever I made a life-altering decision. It's was disgusting, demoralising. It was life in a nutshell for me. Men were used to throwing themselves at women and knowing that they had no choice but to accept them, with open arms and open legs. We were used, abused and accused of being wrong, when the words told us the truth and their tongues told us lies. Then we would force ourselves to leave, but only at the word's commands. They whisper to the women, the girls, even the babies. The men can't hear them, but that never meant that they weren't there. 

We followed their voices for miles, walking on dusty ground in bare feet with cuts and grazes that felt oddly numbed. No one complained, or spoke. We just walked, eating and drinking and bathing in the trail of words that swam in the air before us, leading us to them. The sky changed from blue to red to black, and then back to blue again, and still we remained. I'm sure that I slept still walking, but I can never know for certain. People died. I was close to dying also, but I arrived with virtually hours before my death. They carried me inside without me knowing, floating on a bed of arms and legs that stuck out like protruding bones. Since then I was lost inside. 

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