The ministry of making art in Appalachia
–by Final Girl
Alone, I showed my passport. Alone I boarded a plane. I flew for graffiti, for a street art festival of women artists. I flew to London to participate without knowing for sure I could do it. Alone, I arrived. Alone I found the train. Alone I found the room. I ate alone in a pub full of men. I walked alone to the station to meet strangers.
Final girl! Final girl!
Then a woman was calling my name, my true name. A woman ran across the station to me, and sometime between her calling me and reaching me, she became not a stranger. And there were two women who became not strangers too. We embraced upon first meeting.
Because it was and was not our first meeting. Continue reading