We fenced brutally that night. Metal chess of Machiavellian caliber. I knew she would not give up and neither would I. Dry flowers. Books of unread poetry. Sounds of piano. Eternity in the making. The voice of the heart for which she never found an accurate translation and I happened to know that language well. If I could unthink all the things I thought that night... I hated being a good fencer. Your Wu Woman Co-directed with @yurekakbar