Flowering Judas

She is not at home in the world. Everyday she teaches children who remain strangers to her, though she loves their tender round hands and their charming opportunist savagery. She knocks at unfamiliar doors not knowing whether a friend or a stranger shall answer, and even if a known face emerges from the sour gloom of that unknown interior, still it is the face of a stranger. No matter what this stranger says to her, nor what her message to him, the very cells of her flesh reject knowledge and kinship in one monotonous word. No. No. No. She draws her strength from this one holy talismanic word which does not suffer her to be led into evil. Denying everything, she may walk anywhere in safety, she looks at everything without amazement.

Photography A Pink Moon Camera
Wearing mom's oversized sweater, silk skirt vintage Liana Camba, scarf Louis Vuitton Murakami, bag custom made, Valentino slingback, vintage Versace sunnies similar


Excerpt from Flowering Judas - Katherine Anne Porter