Through reading this you have been invited to take a journey to the innermost depths of my core. You see me here looking whole on the outside not knowing the bent and gnarled woman that lies below the surface in a place where pain hangs on lines like laundry. The blood on it washed out by the backwash from the littered streets attempting to air dry in a never-ending gray mist of emotion. A place where I wander with a wishful spirit praying for a non-existent rainbow in front of an imaginary golden sun. You have joined me on a cold and treacherous journey through the worst possible place a mother can reside, a world without her child.