Until she felt strong enough to talk about her situation with someone, the scraps of paper were her refuge. Secretly writing down her feelings and hiding the pieces created another kind of anxiety, the fear of being found, but she knew she had to do it. She had to leave a trace of what she was covering up. S thought she was ignorant, but she knew what he was up to. Saying nothing was either proof of being blind to it all, or evidence of collaboration. A good detective would one day discover the scraps of her memory and piece the story together.
While on a visit to the Holy Land years ago, she stashed not one, but two scraps of paper in the Wailing Wall. Those two prayers were answered, so she believed in the power of those little messages.
She had suffered from amnesia once, after the death of her father. From this experience, she learned that traumatizing events in life can shape us and haunt us in ways we never imagined. Although reliving those difficult episodes by writing about them brought the pain once again to the surface, she had to do it. If the scraps of memory were found one day, it would feel like a bandaid being ripped off. Maybe it would be like dropping the fig leaf of shame worn over her heart.
— MCW
While on a visit to the Holy Land years ago, she stashed not one, but two scraps of paper in the Wailing Wall. Those two prayers were answered, so she believed in the power of those little messages.
She had suffered from amnesia once, after the death of her father. From this experience, she learned that traumatizing events in life can shape us and haunt us in ways we never imagined. Although reliving those difficult episodes by writing about them brought the pain once again to the surface, she had to do it. If the scraps of memory were found one day, it would feel like a bandaid being ripped off. Maybe it would be like dropping the fig leaf of shame worn over her heart.
— MCW
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