The images of the two rapes, first played automatically in chronological order and then flashed in collage all at once. She shunned herself to live as a shadow.
On the nearest corner of a green imitation-leather sofa was a part of the refraction of a sunbeam through a wide but railed leaded window in the east. It glowed with colorful dust, and sparked with the dazzle of the surface as clean as a spot of baldness. That seemed to complement the complication of her current thinking: the gang rape and Mang, the rapist; the gangster, the threat and the danger; Bing, the cheater, the most irresponsible man and the world’s biggest asshole; the debts creating more debts; the poverty, the struggle and the fi ght; the future with no future; the uncertainty; the money, money, money; and who’s sucked the life out of me?