Dedicated to a girl

On bridges, freedom, and the democracy of words

Words, I learned, are bridges to freedom: to utter them, to even go as far as putting them down to paper, is to cross the boundaries of hope.

A young woman with long, disheveled hair and briskly-applied makeup is crying on an early train from West London to the City as she keeps adjusting her headphones, maybe in an effort to look put together. She looks…