In the myth of your first death our deity
Was yourself resurrected.
Yourself reborn. The holy one.
Day in day out that was our worship-
Tending the white birth-bed of your rebirth,
The unforthcoming delivery, the all-but-born,
The ought-by-now-to-be-born.
Ted Hughes


She danced and drank and talked and laughed. And she was up for the task set upon her by herself. She was a lady after all. One of the boy´s maybe, but a lady. So when she saw her she smiled and listened to the compliments made by her. She looked at her trampy black-heels and leather outfit and decided it was not worthy to make a fuss about it. That girl was decided to fight for what she thinks is hers by right. And she decided it was not worthy.
So she went to sleep that day alone. And she was happy.