Re-reading http://treehousemag.com/2013/11/25/just-like-lily/ from Susan Rukeyser. I appreciate the economy and elegance of the portrait made “for Frida” Kahlo. Lily lives in the ideal, “everything contained” even anger, but finds that there is a outside that, unlike the artist, she is free to access. Highly recommended.
Every day, Lily’s kidnappers left food on the table. Today was a small stack of tamales, each wrapped and tied in corn husk, and guava nectar in a glass greased with fingerprints. Next to the food, as always, was the book. On the day she was locked in here, a note on the book said: OPEN. But she didn’t, not until today.
For the first few days of her captivity, Lily rarely left the mattress. She thought she’d been drugged. She fell into blurry sleep, then soundless black, free of memory. Surfacing at last, as if from underwater, she saw another note near the book: SPEAK.
Today Lily sat at the table and considered the blue walls. They reminded her of the view from her childhood bedroom, its glimpse of the Long Island Sound. Those were noisy years, her parents’ arguments drowning out all else. Some…
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