I am standing at the bus stop with my right arm psychologically missing. I wondered if all the people walking past were noticing the one armed girl waiting for her bus. Wasn’t it obvious to them she was broken, detached from reality. The reality of the emptiness where her brother once stood by her side.
Thirty one years later her psychological arm has grown back, her bruised spirit is in tack, but there is still a void in her soul.
This emptiness ìs being filled with silent creativity.
It has begun.