I wear Inuit clothing. Wrapped in Paleolithic reindeer I hunt mammoths and lions: ivory a source to make art and males with no manes to warm their heads.
I’m huntress, nothing more. Men howl to paint me in caves to represent the woman I am: a bull for my head and the edge of the rock my womanhood.
I’d rather **** with men. I have humanly adventures with them rather than pick berries: I’m hungry not for fruit but for ****** creatures to gain power.
A man gave me a flute. It had three holes to make music with my mouth and fingers, an instrument: So I blew hard to call him our spiritual connection one, him and I.