You could feel it build as the women performed. Audiences got transported to this strange club, suspended in disbelief, rooting for everybody to survive. But when the character Secret, written in homage to my late friend Sigrid, did her monologue, people realized they weren’t going to get a happy ending.
“club termina” gave me the chance to bring my lost friend back onstage for two hours a night. I needed that medicine—because we had both expected to survive, and that’s not what happened.
It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month. And as a survivor, I have a lot to say about it.
Doctors don’t give good news in person on the eve of Yom Kippur. I was really scared.
I want a Do Over. I want to stand at the doorway to Time and Space and get to decide what will help my fellow humans, and what will destroy them. So far, I have not been invited to do this. But that doesn’t stop me from dreaming.
I am a storyteller. At six years old I told stories that took my character deep into a cave where she discovered walls of colorful jewels and cavernous rooms filled with weird creatures.