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I was born into an emergency—my mother—who is mentally ill. She is alive today. And so am I. I learned to snap into attention at the slightest call—to solve the immediate problem—by remaining calm—always untouched by the blasts the wind blew into my face.
Even when my life was torn up by the roots, as it was throughout my entire childhood, traveling all over the world with my 2 sisters and my beautiful, loving, and crazy mother, some hard place sustained me—some granite stone sunk deep down in my soul weighed me down. Nothing can break my faith in my belief that life is a strange, mysterious, and beautiful place. A gift. Karin Aradi had been molested by her own father.
Along with her 2 exquisitely beautiful sisters. She was damaged beyond repair. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life. She was vain. So sure of her beauty. And so unsure of everything else. We were both wearing short skirts and high heels.
She stretched her legs out—and I stretched out mine. Side by side. To compare. We turned our legs--pointed our toes down into a curve--stretched them from the inside—like dancers do. They were the same length—our legs—but hers were cut from marble. Hard, beautiful, elegant lines that wrapped around each muscle in a way to say—god has been here—somewhere here! Karin had been molested by her father from the age of 9 on up. By the time her mother had stopped it—it was too late—for any of her girls.
Karin had a baby. When she was From her punk rocker guitar playing boyfriend. And she struggled to keep it. And she struggled to keep her faith. Will love win out? Or will the need to silence the terrible noise inside your skull prevail. She would sometimes be in the kitchen microwaving up some frozen food.