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After lunch, we are ushered into a big tent to hear a poet. The poet has an African-sounding name even though she isn't from Africa. Her talents seem to be rhyming pussy with hussy and fussy. Then she reads a poem where we are supposed to yell "Wax and Wane!" after lines like, "Women have vaginas that can speak to one another!" It feels good to yell. It feels good to pump my fist in the air, and for the first time since being here, I feel this sort of electric woman power. Our poet recites, "Women are healers, we recover!" Dahlia is beaming, and Mom has tears in her eyes.
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Most books are stored in the elastic cloud where traffic is expensive. For this reason, we have a limit on daily download.
