This isn't a story that fills in the gaps. It's a written record. The moments when I look back on all those vivid years and all those flowers that never bloomed, and reflect on the prelude that is life, are when I decide what to leave unwritten. I write it down. I simply write down the quiet and not-so-quiet years of a girl, a girl's beautiful dark winter. As time overlaps, more things will come into being. All of them could be called white dreams…
