To create a whole human we remembered the Alhambra and the feeling of swimming.
We put memories on a loom and wove them into a blanket. We put the blanket over our
human and said shh, shh, listen. The problem with making a whole human is that unless
you are God, you have to start with a part of a human. We showed her rain. We sent her
out into the woods. We dressed her warmly and gave her a phone. She called to tell us
she found the trail Hanzel and Gretel left. We said, don’t follow it. Our human said ok.
We gave each other high fives. We took her to the movies. She pointed to a sign. We told
her it meant you could bring a weapon as long as it was easy to see. She asked if her
sharp teeth were weapons. We said, your body is not a weapon. Your body is set apart.
The problem with holy things is that they aren’t set apart at all. Our human has intestines
made of PVC pipe and a stomach that only makes non-acidic acid. Her body is perfectly
pH balanced. We told our human to think about her life like a story, with a trajectory. We
told her to dream, then we wrote the dreams all over her perfect body in henna
calligraphy. We said, don’t be a people pleaser. Don’t eat your own honey sweet skin;
whatever you do, whole human, don’t shatter.