Yes I am dark, but my eyes are full of stars.

Perhaps death is just a big lie.

I am made of a thousand ghosts. Only you can shoot me down.

No one can steal your freedom from you. You can only give it away.

Then
why don't I tell on him?

If they don't,
why don't I?

Because.

Because I am safe this way,
silent
unnoticed.

But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim’s place, and now it seems I have become someone precious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love.