For a moment, when I look in the mirror, I see a Goddess. Total perfection. But a concentrated
stare shows me how perception is a fickle mistress. The true image is the gothic definition of
‘witch’. In my head: young and beautiful; in the mirror: ancient and scarred. The lines are
sharp as lightning, deeply scored, indelible. The detritus of a life well lived. That’s what I like
to think, anyway. My tea has gone cold. The gin bottle calls.
stare shows me how perception is a fickle mistress. The true image is the gothic definition of
‘witch’. In my head: young and beautiful; in the mirror: ancient and scarred. The lines are
sharp as lightning, deeply scored, indelible. The detritus of a life well lived. That’s what I like
to think, anyway. My tea has gone cold. The gin bottle calls.
With thanks to Sarah McPherson, 'The Gothic Heroine Takes Matters Into Her Own Hands'
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