I see a white speck on the horizon, like lint falling, a ship moves to a distant place.

“Africa,” Rosa says, “Where there is a dense jungle and then long bare stretches of savannah grass.”

Ellen speaks, “This day is grey and so are we. Rain falls on this beach with rough sand. We come here to say goodbye.”

“I feel all the faucets of my life have flowed into this body, purifying and contaminating,” says Anna, “The grey sky and the grey sea are one and I do not know whether the sun rises or sets.”

“It rises. The day of our lives is new and fruitful. We are but 19.  I think of colorful clothes I will wear, traveling, dancing with men,” says Rosa.

“It sets. This body is inky with pain which tugs the sea in like the night tide. Soon it will drain into the Earth, leaving the seafloor bare with sticky starfish and unopened clams,” says Ellen.

Anna speaks, “I wish I could pause this day and keep it forever suspended above me, like a dancing dream mobile. Or I will keep it in my pocket and we will all forget the consciousness of time. Rise and let’s leave this symbolic scene.”

No we will go on.

“Glory does not find me here,” says Rosa, “But I am made for it. I will work in tall important buildings. Men will know my name. One day, we will walk along the Seine.”

Ellen asks, “Where does my body reside? I will try to conquer it. I use it and I feel it’s power. Power is intoxicating for a woman, so much more so than a man, for there is little power born into us-- we must find it in the world. Men do not conquer me as they believe they do when they touch me. I will be the emperor of myself. I am wielding something virile and bold, I have yet to learn it’s true power. I will use it, I will use it.”

“My body resides under my hands,” says Anna, “It is solid and I believe in it. I feel it’s potential. I will keep it from those who do not realize my claim, and who will try to take it for themselves. I fear contamination in the loss of purity. I see banks of snow, I see a dandelion before I blow.”

Rosa says, “This day is not clear. I demand for the clouds to part. I will sit on the banks of purgatory until my fated day. The sea does not break at my defiance. I am in misery.”

Ellen says, “This day is not clear. I leave this sand spot under the sky. We are too close to it and it is hot at the touch. I await the natural clearing. I say goodbye, I will spend these days inland.”

Anna says, “This day is not clear. I never wanted time to be. I have no solution for it.”