How we dwelt in two worlds the daughters and the mothers in the kingdom of the sons.
Our personalities seem dangerously to blur and overlap with our mother's; and, in a desperate attempt to know where mother ends and daughter begins, we perform radical surgery.
We are, none of us, 'either' mothers or daughters; to our amazement, confusion, and greater complexity, we are both.
Mothers and daughters have always exchanged with each other - beyond the verbally transmitted lore of female survival - a knowledge that is subliminal, subversive, preverbal: the knowledge flowing between two alike bodies, one of which has spent nine months inside the other.
It is the lesbian in us who is creative, for the dutiful daughter of the fathers in us is only a hack.
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