I look down in my lap, and in the coarse wool are woven images which represent my frustrations, my fears, my sorrows. I have been working on this swea...er, a little bit every day, my whole life. Over the years it has changed – adding on bits, losing bits – becoming larger and smaller, but always mine, the colors and patterns always familiar. At last my fingers ache and I can do no more today. I stand and pull the sweater over my head, feeling the heavy wool dragging down on my shoulders. I hold. "So," Madam Zelda began, "what have you to say for yourself?"Tina glanced nervously at Sandy, then back at Madam Zelda. "I...I'm sorry," she said meekly. "I think I've learned a few things."Madam Zelda flashed her toothy grin. "Madam Zelda knows. You have suffered the indignities you once inflicted on others. You have been forced to be an object for sex, as you once treated others."Tina nodded, and tried to stop the tears, unsuccessfully. "I didn't change back." Madam Zelda knows," the. More

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