These are not questions for the end.

That is the whole thing I learned, the one thing, the thing I would carve over every door if I could: they are not questions for the end.

I asked them at the end because the end was the only thing loud enough to finally make me ask, but you do not need a green curtain and a cruel sentence and a scan full of shadows to give yourself permission to be a person.

You have permission now.

Consider it granted, by a woman who waited too long and got lucky anyway, who wants better for you than luck.

Pick up your own name.