I gazed up as if I hadn't heard, but what I was thinking was, tell
me more about the pretty girls. I was embarrassed for wanting it, it
was base, what did pretty matter? I had thought that so many times
with my mother. A person didn't need to be beautiful, they just
needed to be loved. But I couldn't help wanting it. If that was the
way I could be loved, to be beautiful, I'd take it.
The desert at night was black and a strange madder-tinted silver; the sky was black, and the great contorted cliffs, and the vast expanses of sand that stretched out in all directions. But the red moon cast a pale crimson-tinged luminescence over everything, and far above the stars were glittering points of silver.
Well, at least this is what I told myself every day as I fell asleep with the fire still burning and the moon shining high up in the sky and my head spinning comforting from two bottles of wine, and I smiled with tears in my eyes because it was beautiful and so god damn sad and I did not know how to be one of those without the other.