"My hands hurt. I have blisters on my thumbs and the sides of my feet. My back is covered in red, with the exception of two thin white lines where my blue straps lay on my shoulders. My fingers pulse and burn as I write, holding a wooden pen, gnawed and mountainous. I should stop, and sleep. But there's a churning in me. A need. So I scribble on. My thumbs throbbing"