Yellow * YouthIn the audience of the show, there was a little girl, sitting on her mother's lap. She hadn't made a sound for the past hour, had only played silently with her doll, which now lay tossed against the chair beside her, pants down around its legs. She looked around her curiously, with little brown bangs in her little brown eyes which peered curiously out from her little white face. Her mother let her squirm. In years, months, weeks, days, the girl wouldn't remember she had been witness to history. I would remember.
More than anything, I wanted to be that girl.
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