"Okay. Now you have to move your arms and legs.” “I know how to make a snow angel.” “Then do it! Otherwise, you’re more like a chalk outline at a police crime scene."

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My thoughts are messy, my emotions are messy, my body goes in and out at will. The raised white scars on my arms and legs are the only aspect of my being that comes close to minimalism. They came from chaos, but it is hard to carve frustration and unease into the flesh. Only straight lines.

— Emma Forrest