Since the cradle a brown girl learned talking to oneself was a sign of insanity and insanity was next to ungodliness. For the sake of her tribe she had to be whole and she was not to go around shouting ghosts under the full moon. Else, she would be tagged or cast out. Unless they exorcized the demon out of her or she went to a wake, a fitful place to scream and cure the beast from her bosom. And who could wail harder than a melancholy soul grieving at strangers' funerals wishing she would trade bed with the body until her wish came true? But to to those unaware of her ailment, she was just a broken creature unfit to cope and who had suffered a twisted fate unworthy of the gods' grace. From the Ink Noir collection ⚫️🔏 @angellaricot Copyright © Angella RicotBack To All Blog Posts
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