“The catcalls from the cars make me feel strong at first. Isn’t beauty strong? I’d always thought beauty was strength, and so I wanted to be beautiful. Those cheers on the street are like a weightlifter’s bench-press record. The blond hair is like a flag, and all around me in the night are teams. But with each shout, I am more aware of the edge, how the excitement could turn into violence, blood, bruises, death.”
