With God as a witness, she may as well have been living in the wilderness for the amount of time that had gone by. She lamented to a pal only recently about how she felt; friendless and abandoned, and lacking passion in every regard. She held this under her jacket like a piece of jewelry she wanted no one to see, and behind those glasses that she always wore, even though she only needed them to read with. She sought the effect of imperviousness they created; now the only identity she could claim. No longer could she be called woman with a tone that said; that’s mine. The noun was true only to itself now. It meant exactly what it meant. And she was at an age where this status might be permanent. Why even now, it was a struggle to remember when the man took her in the sitting room, or riskier still, in the hallway; letting his hands interfere with her undergarments and squeeze her skin. She threw her head back and melted into the wall. She remembered. She had heard herself groan as she watched the chandelier spinning down on her, capturing her in all her splendor, exalting her with light.

Photography by Ian N'Kosi Joseph. Words by Kwesi Ako Dash. © 2010