Sylvia has been with me for years. I understand her. We’ve walked such a similar path.
We both KNOW exactly where this endemic blackness comes from.
It comes from one single person whose tentacles/lies/deception/cruelty/malice/rejection/evil/destruction etc have crossed miles and time.
Having spent time in Ulster, I understand this torture all too well. I believe that the French did it too during the World Wars. To their own loved ones.
Thankfully, I’ve never seen it IRL but spiritually, emotionally, mentally – it’s been present via my computer.
The image of a tarred-and-feathered outlaw remains a metaphor for severe public criticism.
There IS a Higher Love. Another way to live.
Sylvia has been brutalised. She deserves, at least, a moment of your time.
That is if you prefer life beyond the Black Tar and Feathers.