Simon De Beauvoir told me that I am not born a woman but become one. I indeed anticipated fewer petals from a cactus flower. The blossom is arbitrary. I found a needle to not fear thorn. I found more needles to grow in side out of me and unify me. The blossom is that I write about my womanhood, that I adore my emotions are shallow and anonymous. As in, I tender the breath of humility. As in, I do not mind how I will rise above the sun, over how many nights.