“A hundred times a day there is a voice in my head that screams Help me. The voice comes from a tiny woman in my chest encased in a soundproof glass column, pouding on the walls, begging for someone to notice her” (Waite 150). Each and every word is placed so delicately in the book, such as Mother Nature would place petals gently on a stem to make something magnificent, a beautiful flower. Flowers are the physical object that the reader can relate to this novel. So beautiful, so delicate but when mistreated; they wilt, crumple and brown, becoming terrible. Flowers, a beautiful, terrible thing. Much like a flower, throughout the memoir the reader gets to experience the thrilling romance between Jen Waite and her now ex-husband Marco bud, blossom and then finally and
“A hundred times a day there is a voice in my head that screams Help me. The voice comes from a tiny woman in my chest encased in a soundproof glass column, pouding on the walls, begging for someone to notice her” (Waite 150). Each and every word is placed so delicately in the book, such as Mother Nature would place petals gently on a stem to make something magnificent, a beautiful flower. Flowers are the physical object that the reader can relate to this novel. So beautiful, so delicate but when mistreated; they wilt, crumple and brown, becoming terrible. Flowers, a beautiful, terrible thing. Much like a flower, throughout the memoir the reader gets to experience the thrilling romance between Jen Waite and her now ex-husband Marco bud, blossom and then finally and