I know you know the answers to my questions. You must think it silly of me to stand here facing you, watching you eat and bathe and sleep. What must I want? How desperate must I be to find fulfillment viewing your captivity.
But I’m here, waiting for you to look at me. Waiting to feel your warmth through the protective glass that seperates us by the same hands that once took my families freedom away too.
Here I was thinking we couldn’t communicate when all along your only language has been love.
Victoria
