Invert, Collate, Transverse
Anna Yulevic looks at her hand, really studying it. Grime is etched in each fold of skin, under each nail a black line of filth. She looks at the other one, holds it up to the light – same thing. A line of drool slips out of the corner of her mouth and slides slowly down her chin. She does not notice.
How different her future had been planned. How different her life had been. She had come to London a prominent doctor in her field – disorders of the skeleton. It was the summer of 1911.
One short month ago… Read the rest of this entry