A Barbie lies on the rug, limbs at impossible angles and missing a shoe.
Next to her, a truck with three wheels, a faery with only one wing, and a
Broken necklace announce the whimsical and ephemeral love of a four year-old.
The room shows a trail, meandering and disordered, the work of only a single day.
There will be ***** socks to wash, a tutu that was forgotten as soon as the dance was done,
A row of dishes smelling vaguely of rosemary, and a hapless doll left floating in a bowl of water.
The girl’s absence becomes all the more palpable because of what she left behind.
Is Truth a night spent studying the stars, listening to the secret whispered by the sound of waves,
Or is it the detritus of a child’s play waiting to be picked up and put away?