There's a moment when everything you've imagined, everything you were told, everything you wanted to be true, is all proven to be a lie. 

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It's not something to be angry with, perhaps. But I'm not pleased. 

 

I  used to see the water from our house. I could peek through the curtains and watch the tourists walking down to take photos of the dark, snaking current. 

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But this isn't what you want to know. Just like everyone else, you're obsessed with secrets. You just want to know how deep you have to cut until you find my pulse. 

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Well. Go find them.