My entry. And a picture that doesn't necessarily explain anything at all.
Mother never lied. This she believed would allow her to one day recline along a curved lotus petal in the dappled, perfumed light at Buddha's feet.
A spoonful of powdered nightengale droppings tapped into her palm and moistened with a ball of foamy spit. Circling the paste onto her cheeks, the reek of musk bleached both skin and dirtied soul.
She had to do it.
Love was lessoned when divided by two. Mother giggled, then laughed; at the reflection she screamed.
The shattered glass of her mirror, torn paper, ripped silk...rended skin.
I thought, even this is the truth.